


In Flagrante Delicto

by GasolineGhuleh



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Actual plot, Angst, Cock Warming, Confessional, Cuddling, Dirty Talk, Enemies to Friends, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Oral, Prequelle Era, Scheming, Secret Relationship, Slow Burn, Threesomes, all papas are alive, bed sharing, cock sitting, feral ghouls, male oral
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:01:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 41,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24713527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GasolineGhuleh/pseuds/GasolineGhuleh
Summary: Papa Emeritus the Third has a secret mission now that he's no longer Papa- control the Ghouls of the ministry. Both Copia and the Sister Imperator notice that he's doing suspiciously well at this, prompting the Sister to ask Copia to spy on him and report back. Copia soon learns the truth of the situation and it caught in a crossroads of loyalty and love.
Relationships: Cardinal Copia & Papa Emeritus III, Cardinal Copia/Papa Emeritus III
Comments: 37
Kudos: 112





	1. The Teaser.

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is a special teaser for the upcoming full work. This chapter is the ONLY chapter to be written entirely in second person. The rest will be in third person.

“Ah, ah, ah…no moving, remember?” Papa’s hands glide down your sides to grip your thighs tightly, the supple flesh dimpling under his touch. The ghost of a kiss whispers past your ear, causing a sharp intake of breath from you. Papa’s cock was firmly seated inside of you to the base, throbbing and warm- a perfect promise of the carnal delight to come later. Both of you jump and stifle a moan as the door on the other side of the confessional opens. Papa’s hand comes to your pelvis, pinning you in place carefully. “Be very quiet, unless you want to be caught breaking the rules, yes?”

Someone clears their throat on the other side of the confessional and issues a quick rap on the wall, signaling that they are ready to begin confessing. You can hear the person sit down and make themselves comfortable on the other side, the chair creaking under their weight. A small zipping sound follows, twice, along with the creaking of leather. You turn your head slightly and cast a confused look at Papa. He shrugs, equally as surprised as you are, it seems. The time for confessing was almost over- whoever was on the other side was surely aware of this and timed their arrival just so. 

“Papa?” The blood in your veins runs cold. The voice on the other side of the confessional belonged to Cardinal Copia. This was bad- if you and Papa were caught, there would be no telling what kind of punishment would be handed down to the both of you, especially after being found out by an upper clergy member. Lower ranking clergy members were advised against fraternizing with the Papas and Cardinals. Getting caught doing so, and in public no less, would certainly cause problems. Papa clears his throat tightly.

“Cardinale.” His voice was perfectly normal. The only indication that something was wrong was the white knuckled grip he had on your thighs. He leans in to your ear and murmurs so that only you can hear him. “Stay perfectly quiet, sorella. Do not make…a…sound.” He pulses his cock inside of you with each word, leaving you biting on your fist to stay calm. Your skin feels as though it’s on fire and each pulse sends electric sparks through you. Your toes curl inadvertently.

“Ah, right. Yes. Well. I have sinned, Papa. I am here to confess these sins and receive advice. My sins are as follows.” The Cardinal recites the standard opening for confessing and then falls silent for a moment. You can hear him shuffling his feet slightly and you take the brief pause to attempt to move yourself, trying to get comfortable on Papa’s lap. His arms come around you and lock you in place with a steely grip.

“No more moving now, yes?” Papa is speaking loudly and clearly with the pretense of talking to the Cardinal, but you know it’s meant for you. You smirk slightly and grind your ass backwards, away from his arms but further onto his cock. He /tsk/s into your ear and says sharply, “Come now, I am losing my patience.”

“Right, Papa. I’m sorry. This is a compromising position to be in. So vulnerable and spread open. Speared by the gaze of our Father.” You stifle a laugh at the accuracy of his statements, biting on the inside of your cheek to muffle yourself. Papa does as well. 

“I understand, my Cardinale. Apologies. It certainly is eh…” Papa bounces his legs slightly and you bite down harder on your cheek, squeezing your eyes shut from the sudden burst of pleasure. “A hard situation, yes? It leaves you with a certain empty feeling once you’re done here. I understand the urges.” Papa’s hand presses into your pelvis harder as he adjusts you on his lap, his other hand coming to the side of your face to press you against his chest.

“Very. My sins…eh, they’re not conventional.” You can hear Copia shuffling slightly in his seat again. Papa takes his obvious distraction as an opportunity to tease your lips open with the finger closest to your mouth. His gloves had been removed long ago, and the soft pad of his finger teased around your tongue. “I have these dreams, Papa.” 

“Dreams, sweet Cardinale?” Papa’s voice is perfectly steady, even as his finger probes deeper into your mouth and his hips begin to thrust ever so softly up. “Expand on these dreams. Perhaps these are the cause of your troubles, yes? These types of- come si dice- situations? I know they can be…very hard.” He grunts ever so slightly as he thrusts up into you, your thighs bouncing slightly on his lap.

“It’s so hard, Papa. In these dreams…I am always aroused.” Your jaw drops open slightly around Papa’s finger and he quickly wraps the rest of his hand to your chin, closing it around his finger and forcing you to suck. “I’m painfully hard and there is someone beside me, and I know that I was…had been…with them.” The Cardinal is stuttering his way through his words, but your attention slips slightly as Papa bites at your earlobe and continues his shallow thrusts. “There’s no evidence that I had been, but I just /know/ that I was.”

“Go on, Cardinale. Surely there is more than just being aroused, yes? You would not be seeking the confessions with me if that was the case.” Papa’s tone is slightly teasing- were all of his confessional meetings like this?

“Right. Of course. Sorry, Papa.” The Cardinal clears his throat and you hear a soft rustling followed by a clicking sound. “There is someone beside me and a further someone beside them. The person next to me is…a man. And beyond him, a woman. They’re both beautiful. Stunning, really. The man I’m laying with reaches down and takes my cock in his hand.” Copia takes a long, shuddering inhale on the other side of the confessional. 

You turn your head as much as you can to look at Papa. You’re sure that your face has a stunned expression on it- you’ve never been great at hiding your emotions. Papa grins down at you, winks, and gives you a sharp thrust. His hand comes across your mouth deftly as you gasp and muffles the louder sound that would have come out.

“Do you like this, Cardinale?” 

“God, yes.” Copia is a little too quick to answer and stammers on his next sentence. “I mean… it’s enjoyable, yes.” Papa hums his approval and begins bouncing you more in his lap, the sound only slightly audible to the two of you. His lips kiss to your pulse point and begin to suck as you gape, open mouthed and trying to be silent. “His hand finds my cock and he strokes, as the woman beside him gets on top of him.” Papa pulls off of you with a loud /pop/.

“What happens next, my sweet Cardinale? Tell your Papa.” His thrusts are becoming slightly faster and more erratic, but still just as shallow. With every thrust his cock head rubs against the spot inside of you that, ordinarily, would make you keen with approval. “Sing for me.” You aren’t sure if Papa is even talking to the Cardinal anymore.

“The woman fucks herself on my partner- eh, on the man. He urges me above him until my cock is in his mouth and…” The Cardinal pauses, taking a deep breath and groaning softly- the rest of his words come out in an excited rush. “Papa, it’s the best cock sucking I’ve ever had.” 

“You’ve had many?” Papa sounds genuinely intrigued, even as his one hand grinds you into his thrusts. His composure hasn’t broken yet- the man has barely even broken a sweat. “What made this one so special?”

“The person giving it, Papa.” Copia sighs deeply and you can hear that it’s slightly tinged with a moan. Is he touching himself on the other side of the booth? Before you could question Papa, the Cardinal continues. “His lips are so soft on me, and his hand is reaching and fondling where I love it the most.” He groans again and you’re convinced this time- there’s no way that he could be doing anything else.

“Tell me the rest of the dream, Copia.” The dropped title shocks you, as well as the urgent tone that Papa has taken on- you had never heard the upper clergy members address anyone as anything other than their title. When you turn your head to look at him you’re surprised to find his head dropped back onto the wall of the confessional, his mouth dropped open and panting slightly. His mismatched eyes sear into yours as both of his hands come to your hips, moving you against him in earnest now.

“The woman rides his cock, and her breasts are bouncing. She’s enjoying herself and she’s reaching down to rub her clit. Her moans are loud but they’re music to my ears. The man is moaning around my cock and I have to hold myself back from thrusting into his throat. Something tells me that I can do that, though. That he would be okay with it.” Copia pauses after his rush of words, a moan halted in his throat. “The man cums, and the woman doesn’t move. She lets him fill her, and something about that notion makes me cum as well- he swallows it all, Papa. He doesn’t lose a single drop.” Copia is openly panting now, and you can hear the sound of skin on skin. 

“That sounds like a wonderful dream, il mio Cardinale. Do you know who the people are?” Papa is holding himself back from panting but his thrusts are becoming urgent inside of you. With a surprising show of strength he lifts you up and sets you onto the floor, bending you against the wall of the confessional with your hands supporting yourself. From this vantage point you can see through the small grated window into the other side. Your assumption was correct- you can see Copia’s hand flying along the length of his cock. His head is thrown back and his eyes are closed, the picture of arousal.

“Papa, I believe that the man with me is you. All I know of the woman is that she visits me almost nightly in different situations. A few times the dream has taken place in a public venue. I’m unsure why they keep happening.” Copia grits his teeth in an attempt to stifle another moan and you do the same- Papa is thrusting with abandon now into you, the sounds muffled only slightly by the cloth of your habit and his suit pants. Still, you are sure that Copia has heard.

“Perhaps we can figure that out together..” Papa’s breaths are coming heavy now, his hands insistently pulling you back into him. “I am sure you are close, yes?” You gasp at the revelation and the sound draws Copia’s attention to you. His piercing eyes meet yours through the grate in the confessional wall and he licks his lower lip. Almost as though it were timed, Papa angles his thrusts up into you and cums hard, tipping you over your own edge. You maintain your eye contact with the Cardinal as he, too, finishes with a loud groan.

“Papa…are you pleasuring a Sister of Sin on your side?” Copia grins to himself as he closes his cassock, his eyes never leaving yours. The grin belies a deeper meaning behind his words. Papa himself pulls out of you, zipping his own pants and taking a deep breath. “How dreadfully sinful, my fearless leader.”

“Indeed I was… and I believe she’s perfect for our purposes.” Papa pulls you against him and presses your back to his chest. His lips come to your ear, biting and licking softly. “Tell me, sorella… would you like to join the Cardinal and I for some evening fun?” Despite yourself you moan, your hips pushing back into him for more contact. 

“You mean the two of you planned this?” Papa’s grip tightens around your midsection.

“Did you really think the Cardinal had shown up late for confessional for any other reason, dove?” Papa lets out a chuckle and squeezes you again. “Silly bird. Yes, Cardinal, she’ll do just fine.”


	2. The Fool.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand we're off! 
> 
> Hoping for a weekly update schedule, but we'll see what 2020 throws at me again.

Papa Emeritus the Third leans heavily on his desk, hand hovering near his rotary phone. With a groan he picks it up and dials for housekeeping, calling for a delivery of face paint and some new white towels for his bathroom. It's the third time this week that he's run out of white face paint, and he's certain that it was being noticed. His attention flicks back to the small hand mirror he had laid out on his desk.

His lip was split open and bleeding sluggishly, mostly stemmed for now. A bright purple bruise was flourishing on his cheekbone, the skin only slightly split there. Scabs have already formed in the time since he returned to his chambers. A sigh escapes him as he stands slowly, bracing himself on his desk and holding his side lightly as he stands to his full height. The housekeeping Ghouls would be here soon and he wanted to be in the shower by the time they got here. It’s easier to dodge questions when they can’t see you.

The shower pelts out hot and strong, soothing his sore muscles as he stands under the spray. Papa’s eyes stay firmly on the tiled floor of the shower, watching the mix of black and white papal paint and red blood swirl down the drain. There was something oddly hypnotic about it. His eyes drift shut as he leans his raven black hair under the spray, groaning in pleasure as the heat continues to wash away his frustrations. The water pressure was good here, compared to the Papal showers that he had access to, even if it was slightly smaller. His sore muscles twitch slightly as the tension melts out from the heat and steam. From the door of his bathroom, left ajar, he hears the knock of the Ghouls delivering what he ordered.

“Leave it on the desk,” he calls out, hoping it was loud enough for them to hear. Some small shuffling accompanies the noise of a tray being set down on his oaken desk, followed by the tell tale click of his door shutting. Papa sighs and leans his forehead against the cold tile of shower, determined to eke out every bit of pleasure from it as he could.

A short time later and he’s seated once again at his desk, fresh faced and clad in just a thick plum purple towel slung low around his waist. Terzo has never been modest about his own body, and he took a moment to run his hand over his taut midsection. It was dappled in some spots with forming bruises, close to the same color as the towel he had on. Still, he admits to himself that he’s in his prime- pale skin over deceptively strong muscles with a small tummy, now that he’s off stage and off tour. A smattering of hair goes from his navel to dip below the towel, only partially covering a particularly nasty looking bruise on his stomach. 

The tray on his desk holds the paint he requested, as well as a few folded up face towels, some warm tea, and a note addressed to “Terzo”. Papa picks up the tea cup and downs it in one gulp, turning his attention next to the note. Only a select few people in the clergy referred to him as Terzo, and he recognized the handwriting instantly- quickly scratched indentations into the paper with jagged letters, almost tearing through the paper in the haste with which they were written.

T.,  
I trust things are going well with the Ghoul handling? Things are going well on my end, but I need to check in with you to make sure that everything is going according to plan. Let me know if I need to step in.   
S.

Papa rubs his hands over his face and suppresses a groan. Another note from his brother, the Second, lightly reminding him that his new job since being demoted from the leader of the Ghost project was going exceedingly poorly. Their father, Papa Emeritus Nihil, had instructed Terzo to find a way to tame the feral Ghouls being summoned. Cardinal Copia had gone through several Ghouls before landing on his current musicians, and the feral Ghouls still needed to be dealt with. So far, the best route seemed to be an attempt at fighting them into submission before casting them into the flames of perdition. 

With another low groan, Papa picks up his hand mirror once more and gazes into it. His face, now free of the papal paint, seemed much more bruised than he had initially thought. A wince crosses his face as he brushes his hand over the cut on his cheek bone. Opening the top drawer of his desk, Papa removes some antiseptic cream and pops the cap. Just as he's setting up the mirror to tend to himself, a knock echoes on his door.

“Entrare,” he calls. Without looking up from the mirror he waves his visitor farther into the room. “Cardinale, good of you to visit.”

“Papa! Are you okay? That cut looks serious.” Cardinal Copia leans forward over the desk slightly, inspecting the cut that Papa was daubing cream onto. His eyes widen when he catches sight of the bruising on Papa’s midsection. “You should have those looked at, they could be dangerous.”

“Si, si, not a problem. A Sibling got a little zealous, yes? Nothing I can’t handle. We Papa’s heal fast, you know.” Papa flashes a grin up at Copia, putting the cap back onto the cream. “What did you need?”

“Ah, right, yes. Sister Imperator asked me to bring you some forms? Something about a new Ghoul that went feral on the lower levels. Since that’s your position now… Ghoul handler.” Copia flicks a quick, dry smile at him. A dark look crosses Papa’s face as he snatches the small bundle of papers from the Cardinal, pointedly noting that the wax seal is still in place. Copia holds his hands up to placate him, commenting tersely, “I do not make it a habit to read correspondence, you know.”

“You never know, with all these rats in the ministry recently.” Papa returns the dry smile that Copia leveled on him, tucking the papers in the main drawer of his desk. “You can tell the Imperator that they’ll be looked at in the morning. My job is done for the evening, and I’d much like to relax with some wine. Tell me, Cardinale…” Papa leans forward on his desk, keeping eye contact with his subordinate. “How much do you know of my ‘handling’ with these Ghouls?” Copia tips his head back and barks out a sharp laugh.

“I assumed you just fuck them into submission, Papa. That seems to be your position as of late.” He runs a hand through his hair, coughing softly and reverting to a softer tone when he sees the danger flash through Papa’s eyes. He was still considered superior to Copia, after all. “Apologies, Papa. Your reputation precedes you, that’s all. In truth, the problem Ghouls seem to disappear and that’s good enough for us.”

“Si, well enough. Dismissed.” Papa flaps a hand towards the Cardinal and turns his attention back to his own face in the mirror. He waits until Copia has reached his door before calling after him, “Oh, and Cardinal? Watch your language around your Papa, yes? Uncouth.” 

He’s unable to see the way that the Cardinal’s ears and cheeks redden with embarrassment. 

Once the door clicks shut once more and Papa is left alone, he lets his head drop to his arms, folding on his desk. Without looking he stretches his foot out and kicks the side of his desk hard, opening a spring loaded false panel hidden in the oak. Papa leans farther down with a groan and reaches into the panel, pulling out a large bottle of brandy.

Sitting back up, he kicks his legs up onto his desk and flicks the bottle open, taking a deep swig and waving his hand towards the door to his chambers. It locks itself with a soft /click/ and he smiles, contentedly leaning back farther in his chair and closing his eyes.


	3. The High Priestess.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Copia has tea with Papa.

Cardinal Copia strides through the hallways of the Abbey, muttering under his breath and wringing his hands. With a small pop, one of the rhinestones on the back of his glove pops off of the Grucifiix and he groans to himself, running the other hand through his hair and tugging slightly in frustration. Just another thing for Sister Imperator to admonish him about. Coming to a halt in front of her door he knocks on it sharply, waiting for her call to enter.

“Cardinal! Welcome back,” she says, smiling brightly at her protege. “How was the meeting with The Third? I hope everything went well.” Her perfectly tweezed eyebrow raises and the Cardinal sighs inwardly as he prepares to explain the situation. None of this was to his liking, so far.

“Alas, Sister, I didn’t learn anything. He’s bleeding quite a bit on his cheek, and I believe he didn’t expect company. He was in a towel and eh... there’s a pattern of bruises across his stomach.” Copia comes forward and sits in the chair in front of her desk, sighing and fiddling with the Grucifix on the back of his glove, and its remaining stones. “I’m unsure how I’m supposed to get intel from a man who has so many secrets.”

“Look, Cardinal…” Sister Imperator leans forward onto her desk, fixing Copia with a stern eye. “Something is happening with the Ghouls in this Abbey, and I need to know about it. The Third is not the leader of this church anymore, no matter how much he wants to pretend he is. We are. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, but-”

“No buts. If he’s doing something clandestine inside this Abbey, it is your duty to find out and tell me. Are we clear? Now,” Sister taps a paper in front of her. “We know he's in charge of the Ghouls. What we don’t know is what he’s doing with them and how he’s keeping them contained. Find. Out.” She jabs her pen in the air towards the Cardinal to punctuate her point and waves towards the door. “Go. Find. Lead.”

Copia stands swiftly and bows to her, backing his way out of the room and shutting the door behind him. Once more in the hallway, he takes another deep breath and holds his hands out in front of him. They’re only shaking slightly. Confrontation has never been his strong point. His nerves already shot for the day, he heads towards his own chambers. Papa iii can wait until the morning.

\--

Early the next morning Papa awakes to his door rattling in the frame from loud knocks pounding on the wood. He rises quickly, throwing a purple robe on and tying it loosely around his waist, only barely managing to conceal his morning wood. He runs a hand through his hair as he half jogs to the door, calling out various forms of “I’m coming” as he does so.

“Si, si!” Papa cracks open the door, running a hand through his hair and peeking through to the other side. Cardinal Copia stands waiting with a silver tray in his hands, laden with two cups, a tea pot and decanter, a small pot of sugar, and a large covered platter and bowl. He seems to have kicked the door for Papa's attention rather than knocking. “Ah. Cardinale. To what do I owe the eh…” He trails off, hand motioning in circles as he does so, seeming to search for the word.

“Pleasure?” Copia supplies.

“No, no, it’s not that.” Papa’s voice is flat as he opens the door wider, allowing the Cardinal inside. He shuffles in carefully, balancing the items on the tray as he does. Terzo steps to the side and gestures to his desk, pointedly turning away from Copia as he moves to sit in his chair behind it.

“I figured I would bring us breakfast and we could chat, Papa.” Copia takes a seat across from him, busying himself with the food and drink that he brought. He takes the time to pour the steaming tea before he speaks again. “I consider myself a fair man. I like to give everyone a chance.”

“I see.” Papa’s tone is clipped and short as he leans forward to accept his cup of tea, taking two spoonfuls of sugar as he does so. Copia raises his brow slightly. “I like my things sweet.”

“Clearly.” Copia clears his throat, taking a sip from his own, unsweetened, tea. He removes the coverings over the bowl and plate, revealing fruit and scones. Picking up a scone and motioning towards Terzo to do the same, he continues talking. “I know you’re doing something here that I haven’t approved of, and I want to give you the chance to tell me.”

“Me? Tell you?” Papa snorts a laugh as he takes a scone, biting into it viciously and chewing before speaking up again. “Cardinale, this was my church. This was my brother’s church. My father’s church. You are here because we allow you to be. You are in charge because father allows you to be.” He wags a finger towards Copia and shoves the rest of the scone in his mouth. Papa licks the crumbs from around his lips before finishing, “Do not get a big brain, si?” 

“It’s ‘big head’, Papa. ‘Do not get a big head’, is the saying.” Copia corrects him quietly, smiling behind his tea cup. He pops a strawberry into his mouth and speaks around the juice, holding his hand in front of his mouth as he does so. “Sister Imperator is quite certain that something is happening.” A swallow. “Try the fruit. But I am as well, you see. You’re injured last night, and this morning you’re wearing a full robe? I was expecting to get the usual Papa Emeritus the Third treatment at the door.” 

“Things change, as you know. I have not answered the door in the nude since eh… well, since last time.” Papa clears his throat, willing his flush back down. He pops a strawberry into his mouth to cover it. “Nothing is happening, Cardinale. I am taking care of the Ghouls, si? Then nothing is wrong.” 

“Yes, but-” Copia starts, before being interrupted by Terzo.

“No buts. You have told me ‘ohh Terzo, work with the Ghouls’ and I do this. The Ghouls are worked with. They are being taken care of.” Papa leans forward quickly and snatches an apple off of the platter, tossing it between his hands as he stands and moves from behind the desk. “I am returning to sleep. Last night was not so good.” He takes a large bite of the apple as he walks away and then turns back. “Leave the fruit, Cardinale.” Copia nods, draining the rest of his tea and standing to leave.

“Papa, if there were something would you even tell me?” He’s only slightly upset at how longing his voice sounds. Papa turns around at the door to his bedroom, his robe hanging open to his hips, revealing the same pale skin that Copia saw the night before. He makes note that the bruises have almost completely faded. There’s a pregnant pause in which Copia notices his breath coming slightly faster. He forces his eyes up to Papa’s own mismatched ones.

“Yes, Cardinale. I would.” Papa throws a wink at him. “I’ll tell you, should something rise up.” He turns into his bedroom, tossing the robe behind him as he pulls it off.

“Arise,” Copia corrects to himself as he gathers the tray and leaves quietly, clicking the door behind him. For the rest of the day, the image of Papa’s lithe midsection and the fluttering robe as it fell through the air haunts him.


	4. The Magician.

A quick glance down either side of the hallway tells the Third that he’s utterly, blissfully, alone. Steeling his resolve for today’s task he adjusts his suit cuffs and starts off, trying to maintain an air of authority as he takes his long strides down towards the front entrance of the Abbey. He cracks his knuckles as he walks, the sound a comfort to him after the oddness of the past few days. As he approaches the main entrance hall of the Abbey and thus, by association, the trap door to the Ghoul den, his eyes flick to the shadows. 

Papa kneels swiftly, unbolting the trap door and giving a final glance around him before descending into the darkness, door clanging shut after him. He thinks to himself, not for the first time, that there really should be a bolt on the underside of the door. Especially in times like these. Papa proceeds down the long and narrow hallway, occasionally peeking into the Ghoul dens on either side. 

He's so preoccupied with his task that he doesn't notice the Cardinal slinking along behind him, crouched low to the ground. A small rat peeks its way out of the Cardinal’s front pocket and makes a soft noise at him. His finger comes to the rat’s head almost by force of habit as he makes small soothing noises, stroking its head until it tucks itself back into the suit coat. Something clicks behind him and he whirls around quickly, heart in his throat.

“Cardinale. I see you have joined me in the dens, si?” Terzo leans against a wall, elbows in his hands and appearing as nonchalant as can be. Once Copia looks at him, he straightens and brushes invisible dust off of his suit coat. “You are eh… looking for me? Perhaps? You come to see how I deal with these Ghouls?” He leans towards the Cardinal, reveling in the ‘gulp’ the other man involuntarily makes. Leaning farther in, he practically presses the Cardinal against the wall, boxing him in with his body. “Or perhaps you look for some fun in the dark, si?” A dangerous smile alights on his lips as the Cardinal stutters out an answer.

“It’s not what you think, Papa. I would never dream of spying on an upper Clergy member! I was just em…” Copia looks around, clearly looking for an explanation before he angers Terzo further. “I was visiting my Ghouls! To see how they’re settling in!” As if on queue, two Ghouls bearing Copia’s sigil round the corner. Papa pulls back from Copia quickly, smiling and waving them forward.

“Boys! Join us, eh? Your Cardinale was on his way to visit. If he likes you so much, I must meet you. Your elements, please?” Papa tilts his head to the side, offering a blindingly white smile. The two Ghouls come over, both glancing nervously at each other. One of them speaks, pointing first at himself and then to his partner.

“I’m Rain and uh… He’s Mountain.” Rain nervously looks at his Cardinal, who gives him an encouraging nod when Papa reaches his hands out towards the Ghouls. He takes Papa’s hand, who shakes it enthusiastically, repeating the motion with Mountain.

“Just marvelous, such well trained Ghouls already!” Rain barks out a laugh, quickly covering his mouth with a hand. Mountain shuffles beside him, his tail coming out to whack Rain sharply on the wrist. Hissing slightly, Rain covers his wrist with the other hand, glaring at Mountain. “Or perhaps not?”

“Uh, no Papa! No! We’re well trained. We’re quite in line, I assure you!” Rain glances back to Copia, who looks as though he’s dangerously close to slamming his head through a wall. “The Fire Ghoul well… he’s a little feral, but aren’t they all?” He shrugs and offers up a nervous smile, chittering a little.

“Ah, yes. Fire Ghouls. Troublesome shits.” Papa squints towards Mountain. “Is this Ghoul silent? Has he not been trained to speak yet?”

“No,” Mountain entones in a gravelly and monotone voice. Papa rears back slightly, obviously surprised. 

“Right. Well, Cardinale, don’t let me stop your fun with your Ghouls. Must get our socializing in with them daily, yes? That’s how they stay in line, you know! Yes, I remember my own Ghouls…” Papa trails off his sentence, talking to himself as he slowly wanders down the corridor. He rounds a corner at the end of the hall and disappears.

“Shit.” Copia runs his hand through his hair and looks at his Ghouls. “You two didn’t see anything, if anyone asks.” Rain and Mountain look at each other and then back to Copia, nodding.

“You got it, boss. What’s going on?” Rain tilts his head slightly, face worried behind his mask. “You know we’re here to help.” 

“I know, I know.” Copia bites his bottom lip for a moment, thinking. “Look, if you see anything weird happening down here in the dens, you’ll let me know. That’s the best I can tell you for right now. But something is happening, and I need to know what, or the Imperator will have my hide. I’m supposed to be in charge now.” 

“Okay,” Mountain grumbles, hand coming out to clap Copia on the shoulder a bit harder than intended. He hums and brushes the Cardinal’s shoulder, the force of his strokes buckling the man’s knees slightly. Coughing awkwardly, Mountain settles for a quick step backward and a bow of his head.

“You got time for Uno, boss?” Rain asks brightly, tail swishing excitedly behind him. Mountain lights up as well, grinning at Copia. 

\--

It’s several hours later when Copia stumbles out of the Ghoul den, suit jacket draped loosely over his shoulder and rat tucked neatly against his chest. His hair is tousled and there’s a small tear in the dress shirt he’s wearing at the collar- the price of an altercation with Dew over a Draw Four card. Still, he’s happier than he has been in a long while. 

Until he remembers the distinct lack of information that he was able to obtain.

With a sigh he returns to his chambers, sitting heavily down in his desk chair and penning a letter to the Sister Imperator. Copia makes sure to explain the situation as best as he can, citing the interaction with his own Ghouls and the fact that Papa seemed to buy it. Still, he laments, he’s no closer to finding out how, exactly, Terzo is dealing with them. He signs the letter with a flourish and summons a housekeeping Ghoul to deliver it for him.

Once the Ghoul leaves, Copia walks to his own drink cart and pours himself a finger of whiskey before returning to his office chair and settling into it with a groan. A fire crackles in the hearth, and its warmth and sound is comforting to Copia as he leans back and trains his eyes on it. What was Papa doing in the Ghoul dens at that hour? Why was he not in his formal dress? What was with the odd closeness of the man, and the taunting smiles he seems to toss his way? Does he know something about Copia that he, himself, doesn’t?

It’s a long while before he leaves his desk, whiskey left untouched.


	5. The Hierophant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains some blood, and a character giving another character stitches. It's not too graphic but it can be upsetting for some. 
> 
> Please use caution.

Copia leans heavily on his desk, the letter unfolded in front of him and slightly crumpled on the side where he had gripped it a bit too hard. The Ghoul who delivered it left quickly, clearly unwilling to bear witness to the emotional turmoil that the Cardinal was sure to feel. With a groan he lowers his head into his hand, giving a dry chuckle at his own predicament. He’d joined the Clergy to make the world a new place, not to spy on his technical superiors and be herded through multiple hoops once he was promoted. The politics in this Abbey...he groans again and sits back up, snatching the letter again to reread it. Perhaps he read it wrong the first time.

_Cardinal Copia,_

_Per your last letter it has come to my attention that you have been unable to obtain little if any information about the workings of Papa Emeritus the Third and his handling of the Clergy Ghouls. By your own admission you found him in the tunnels of the Ghoul Dens in Main Abbey Building A, and were unable to make pursuit. One of your Ghouls has since informed me that you instead spent the time playing Uno with them- a worthy endeavor I’m sure._

_However, I believe that this kind of lapse in the gathering of information warrants some type of punishment to spur some things along. You may be the head of the Ghost project, but you are not the head of this church yet. Failure is not an option for us._

_Report to the library’s untranslated text storage and get to work. I expect at least three tomes done by the end of the week. Deliver them either to the head Water Ghoul in charge of the texts or to me. Do not disappoint me again._

_And do not forget that you are still under orders to obtain the information I requested, as quickly and specifically as possible. Trail him if you need to and DO NOT LOSE HIM AGAIN._

_S. Imperator_  
Left Hand of The Papa Emeritus Nihil  
In His Name 

Great, so he hadn’t imagined what the letter specified then. Copia sets the letter down on the desk again before thinking better of it. He picks it up and crumples it quickly, lobbing it into the trash can nearby. Almost as soon as it hits the rim of the trash can there’s a knock at the door. It swings open without him calling for entry.

“Ay, boss, I was told to deliver this shit to you. I was in the middle of a damn nice hunt, too, so can I have a fiver for lunch?” The Fire Ghoul, Dew, saunters through the door he’d practically slammed open before swaggering his way over to the Cardinal’s desk. A letter rests between two of his long fingers, which he holds out to Copia before holding his other hand up in a “gimmie” motion.

“Dew, you scared me. Enter a little more graciously next time, eh?” Copia snatches the letter from Dew, scowling slightly at him. Dew feigns fear and takes a step back.

“So scared, boss man.” He smiles wryly and steps forward again. “About lunch, and his ruining of it?” He jerks his chin towards the letter in Copia’s hand. The Cardinal huffs a sigh and opens his desk drawer, pulling out some change before dropping it in Dew’s hand.

“I thought you just hunted in the woods,” he mumbles, turning his attention back to the letter. It’s on cream paper, and his heart leaps into his throat when he sees the purple wax seal with an embossed E pressed into it. Copia’s finger brushes over the seal- still warm. 

“We do. Thanks for the tip.” Dew tosses a wink toward the Cardinal before turning around and walking swiftly out the door, tail swishing behind him as he pockets the cash. Copia splutters after him, snapping his mouth shut once the door closes with another bang. 

He takes a moment to shake his head once the sound of the Ghouls’ footsteps fade down the hallway before turning his attention fully to the letter. He pops the wax seal, sliding his finger under the lip of the paper and lifting. In beautiful, purple inked calligraphy it simply says one word: Come.

Moments later sees Copia standing from his desk and pulling on his red cassock, tying the belt loosely in front and moving to his mirror. Small beads of light strike the grucifix on the side sash of his cassock, accentuating the jewels and tassels. He runs a hand through his hair before pulling on the black leather glove, zipping it up his palm and flexing his fingers. Copia mutters to himself when he finds himself checking his makeup and face, “You’re not going on a date, imbecile.”

On the way down the hallway, the Cardinal makes a point to walk tall, keeping his hands behind his back. Several Siblings scamper quickly out of his way with a bow and a quick scoot backwards. Copia smiles to himself, still not quite over his new found power. It’s a quick walk to Papa’s chambers, but it’s one that he savours- the hallways are warm with the sun flooding through the stained glass, and the various potted plants are in bloom, giving the hall a flowery and warm scent. The Papal corridor was rarely frequented by Siblings or Ghouls but when it was, they tended to keep their heads down and move quickly… as they should, in the Cardinal’s opinion. 

Standing in front of the embellished Papal door, the Cardinal takes another moment to adjust his sash and biretta. He raises his fist to knock as the door swings open and a Ghoul attempts to scurry out before running face first into Copia. The Ghoul looks up, equally as startled as Copia and, with a mumbled sorry, sprints off down the hall.

“Eh, Papa?” Copia ducks his head through the door before entering, knocking slightly on the now-open door. Papa is sitting at his desk, an array of paperwork spread out before him. An inkpot is open, as well as a few pen nibs scattered on the expanse of the desk. He looks up quickly and smiles, a broad and genuine smile, before getting up from his chair and coming around the desk towards the Cardinal. He ushers him in and shuts the door behind him, pointedly sliding the bolt lock into place before addressing him.

“Cardinale! Good of you to make it, I thank you. I had hoped your Ghoul, the Fire one with the Water name, si? I hoped he would make it to you quickly. I need your assistance with something.” Papa practically drags Copia farther into the room and towards the small sitting area by the fireplace. 

“You locked the- woah!” Copia lets out a startled noise as he’s shoved onto the table, sitting down harder than he intended. His biretta slides off and to the side, landing on the floor with a soft sound. “Papa! What is this?”

“Just a problem, Cardinale. I do not trust these new Water Ghouls with medical things.” Papa is busying himself as he talks, pulling a medical kit out from under one of the cushions on the sofa, putting it on the table beside Copia. Copia begins to speak before Papa cuts him off once more. “I seem to have gotten myself in a little bit too deep the last time you saw me...”

Papa trails himself off, his fingers dancing across the buttons of his dress shirt. It’s only now that Copia notices what he’s wearing- a dark black dress shirt and satin pajama bottoms, with nothing else on his body to speak of. His usual white gloves are missing, as are his suit coat and shoes. 

As the sides of his shirt part, Copia draws in a long breath, letting it out shakily at the sight of Papa’s chest. Long streaks of red stretch from his navel in an arcing pattern towards his shoulder, only narrowly missing his nipple. There are five scratches in all, and three of them are still oozing blood slowly. A large purple bruise surrounds each tear, the edges of which are red and inflamed.

“Papa…” Copia stretches his hand out slowly before drawing it back and unzipping his glove. He drops the glove to the floor and reaches out again, pressing one finger to the untorn skin near one of the tears. “Papa, this feels infected. You need to be taken care of.” Copia’s eyes flicker up to Papa’s, their identical two-toned gazes locking together momentarily before Papa looks away.

“This is why I bring you, yes? I know you did medical in seminary. You can take care of me. You have to.” Papa clears his throat, clearly awkward with the conversation. He groans as he takes a seat in front of Copia on the ottomon, his eyes level with Copia’s stomach The shirt is dropped behind him to the floor unceremoniously as he does so. “In the tunnels, I…”

“A Ghoul did this? This isn’t good. Damnit, Papa.” Copia snags the medical bag, digging through it and pulling out supplies- gauze, needle, thread, antiseptic, and gloves. He pulls off his other leather gloves and slides the latex ones on before prodding at Papa’s skin again. “Terzo, this is...this is bad.” 

“Terzo, eh?” Papa huffs out a laugh. “I have not heard you call me this before. It feels like a nickname, yes?” He smiles slightly, wincing as Copia presses closer to one of the gashes. “When we were in the tunnels, and I saw you, I was going to see the Ghouls.”

“Yes, I had assumed so.” Copia takes a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly as he thinks. Picking up the needle and thread with trembling hands, he places them back down in his lap for a moment. He takes another deep breath before finally speaking. “I was told by Sister Imperator to spy on you, Papa. I have to admit, I’m not comfortable with it.”

“I figured this. You would not follow me without prompting, unless you wanted a sexual liaison, si? I know this. The Sister has wondered for a long time now how I am dealing with these Ghouls. Ai!” Papa yelps slightly as Copia daubs some antiseptic on his skin, hissing in through his teeth as it burns. 

“You can tell me, Terzo. I’m not going to tell the Sister. I know where my loyalty lies, and it’s not with her,” Copia mumbles as he threads the needle quickly. He flicks his eyes up towards Papa and holds the needle to his skin. “Ready?”

“Wait.” Papa reaches forward with another loud groan, pulling a bottle of whiskey out from under the sofa. He twists the cap and flicks it off, sending it flying across the room before taking a long gulp from the bottle. “Si, andiamo. Get this over with.” He bites his lip hard as Copia slips the needle through his skin, deftly working it in and out of the flesh. 

“I’m sorry, Terzo, I know this hurts.” Copia clears his throat again, leaning in even closer to Papa as he continues his work. From beneath the smell of the antiseptic and gloves on his hands, he can vaguely sense Papa’s aftershave- musky and dark. 

“Terzo… I like when you call me this. It sounds nice on your tongue.” Papa tilts his head back, taking a deep breath as Copia cuts off the first of the stitch lines. “Finish what you were saying, about the loyalty. It distracts me.” 

“Right, of course. Sister… she’s suspicious of how you’re dealing with the Ghouls. She tells me to follow you. Trail you.” He pauses to pull more thread through his lips, bringing it to a point before threading a new needle. “Little pinch. Anyway, I trailed you that night. I don’t know what you’re doing with the Ghouls. Quite frankly, I thought you were-”

“Fucking them into submission, si. I recall that crass remark.” Papa takes another swig of the whiskey, offering it to Copia before pulling it back. “Apologies, perhaps you drink when you are done with my flesh. I like my skin unmarred. Better for the love making.” Copia snorts out a laugh.

“I can’t say I would know. My own is eh… it’s not important. The Ghouls?”

“Yes, I’ve been taking care of them. It takes time. Sometimes I get hurt.” Papa’s voice is nonchalant, but it’s becoming increasingly difficult for him to mask the pain beneath his voice as Copia finishes with the third wound. “You have… steady hands.” He takes a deep breath before taking another swig of his whiskey.

“I’ve been told this. By Sister, no less.” A beat of silence passes before Copia speaks again, annoyance evident in his tone. “She’s punishing me, you know. For not being able to give her information about you. I have to translate the old tomes.” 

“Hah! Ouch, shit.” Papa grumbles as his laughter pulls a thread through his skin faster than Copia would have desired. “I did this as a child, I know how bad it is. I help you, don’t worry. It should not be an issue with the two of us working together. In return, I tell you the truth, si? You say your loyalty is not with her, I trust you.”

“You don’t have-”

“I know I do not. I wish to. Sometimes, to keep a Ghoul in line you have to sink to their turf. To banish them back, it is easier when you can physically exhaust them. This is why I am hurting so often. You noticed, I’m sure?” Papa closes his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose as Copia finishes the final stitches and clips off the thread.

“I’ve noticed, yes. I’m not sure that others have. My own Ghouls haven't mentioned anything. I assume that means no one else has.” Copia sits for a minute, folding gauze over in his hands before realization dawns across his face “Terzo, are you fighting them?”

“Si. If you can fight a Ghoul to the point of exhaustion, the other Ghouls can toss them back into the pit easily enough. The newer ones, yours, still have touches of the summoning sickness. I cannot use them yet for this. So… I do this myself. A Ghoul acts up, I engage in some fighting. They tire, and I banish them.” Papa sighs, opening his eyes to look at Copia.

He’s wearing a worried expression, eyebrows furrowed and lips turned down. Silently, he takes the gauze and places it gently on Papa’s chest, taping it into place with the medical tape from the bag before laying one more piece over top of it. The gloves come off easily enough- pulling from the wrist and snapping them into each other to contain the blood within. He holds his hand out for the whiskey, taking a large drink of it and wiping the back of his mouth. 

“This is dangerous. You’re going to get yourself hurt- Hell, more hurt!” When Copia finally speaks, his words come quickly. “This is idiotic. I know there’s only a few ways to banish a Ghoul, but there has to be more ways to physically exhaust them. You can’t just go around fighting them. They have tails! And fangs! And claws! Some of the older Ghouls can kill you, Terzo.” 

“I know this. This is why I tell you. I think that you can help me. You say you don’t trust the Sister, but that you trust me. Work with me. Help me keep our Abbey safe, Cardinale.” Papa leans forward, laying his cheek against Copia’s leg and closing his eyes briefly. “This is the task I was assigned, and I have found a way to do it. But I am thinking I am not strong enough alone. Be with me.” 

“Be- be with you? In this? In a Ghoul fight club, basically? What, is the first rule not to talk about it?” Copia asks incredulously. Papa only blinks up at him owlishly, the whiskey clearly working quickly. 

“I would assume not, since I am telling you.”

Copia huffs a deep breath before laying backwards on the table, throwing a forearm over his eyes and thinking for a moment. He shifts his legs without thinking, only noticing when the soft weight of Papa’s head disappears. Copia hears two thumps on either side and he opens his eyes to see Papa straddling him, his face leering over him. The white eye glows eerily in the darkened room, causing a chill to run down Copia’s spine inadvertently.

“Papa?”

“I will give you time to think about this, I think. I trust you, and you trust me, si? Now, Cardinale, trust me when I say this… you should be leaving. I am loving the whiskey, and I am a… come si dice... “ Papa bites his lower lip, his eyes going hooded as he looks down at Copia underneath him. “A loving drunk.”

“I believe the word is amorous,” Copia whispers. His hands come up reflexively to Papa’s biceps, squeezing slightly. “Amorous drunk.” 

“Si, si, ti voglio ora, Cardinale.” Papa rolls his hips slightly, only just brushing over Copia who jumps with a start. “You leave and think. I will be here.” Papa rises to his knees, letting Copia scramble up and pull his gloves back on.

“Yes, Papa. We’ll talk soon. I’ll eh… I’ll come change that gauze tomorrow. Get some sleep.” Copia’s words are rushed as he hurries to the door, face matching his cassock. His hand only just touches the lock before Papa calls out from behind him.

“Cardinale, do not be taking too long, now. We will work on those texts and then the Ghouls. We will be spending time together, it seems.”

Copia only nods and exits quickly, making a point to hide his growing blush from Papa.


	6. The Empress.

Early the next morning, Copia arises and dresses quickly. He shrugs his black suit coat on, adjusting the cuffs before pulling on his leather gloves, doing up the zippers quickly. It’s become a soothing habit for him, these quiet mornings getting dressed alone. It offers him time to calm his mind before he faces his day, filled as it was with his newly assigned Cardinal duties. His mind briefly turns to Papa as he wonders what his daily chores had become since losing the Ghost project.

Copia shakes his head quickly, dispelling the thoughts as he sits heavily in his dressing room chair. His hands dance nimbly across his shoes, buckling them and making sure that they were fitted correctly. He sits for a moment, toe tapping on the floor as he considers where to start his day; the list of things to get done is a long one, made only longer by Sister Imperator’s demand of translating the texts. 

“May as well start with those damnable things,” Copia mutters to himself as he stands, tucking his small grucifix inside of his shirt and buttoning his coat. The door leading from his dressing room to his bedroom is small, and he’s had to turn sideways to get through it recently. Huffing at himself, he sidles back out into his bedroom and continues adjusting his cuffs as he approaches the main door to the Papal hallways.

As the door swings open, Copia is startled into a soft yelp as he comes face to face with the immaculately painted visage of Papa Emeritus the Third. He’s frozen in a lean against the door frame, hand upraised into a fist to knock on the door. His suit, as always, appears perfectly pressed with not a single wrinkle in the rich material. Upon seeing the Cardinal, his face splits into a toothy grin.

“It seems I know you better than we thought, si?” Papa laughs, bringing his hand back down and crossing his arms across his chest, maintaining his nonchalant lean. 

“Apparently so, Papa. Did you need something? I was heading to the library to retrieve the texts for Sister.” Copia runs a hand through his hair quickly, willing the flush that’s come across his face to go down. 

“You offered to change my bandage, Cardinale. I offered to assist you in your translations. Did that whiskey go to your brain that quickly?” Papa arches an eyebrow at Copia, gently pushing past him into his chambers. Copia splutters slightly and follows him back into his own rooms, shutting the door quickly behind them.

Papa stands in the center of Copia’s office, hands on his hips as he surveys the room. His eyes linger slightly longer than normal on a bottle of lotion on the Cardinal’s desk as he spins in a small circle. He moves quickly towards the sitting area of the office, bending at the waist to inspect a small stack of books beside the fireplace. The books all have bookmarks in them at varying locations, with a small notepad on top.

“Do you ever stop working, Cardinale?” Papa leans further, looking at the bookshelf behind the small stack of books, canting his head to the side to read the spines easier. 

“Not usually, Papa. Working keeps my mind off of other things.” Copia moves swiftly over to Papa, gently maneuvering him into a plush chair beside the bookshelf. He busies himself with finding his small medical kit, stashed under the large leather couch parallel to Papa. “Take off your shirt so I can get to the wounds,” Copia mumbles. That damn flush is still very much present, no matter how long he stays facing away from Papa.

“If you would look at me, you would notice that it’s already off,” Papa drawls lazily at Copia. When his eyes flick towards Papa he notes that his shirt has indeed already been taken off and folded neatly on the arm of the chair. Copia stands off of the stone floor with a soft grunt, moving towards Papa and kneeling in front of him. As he goes to remove the previous bandage, Papa’s hand shoots up and grips his wrist tightly. He presses a kiss to his pulse point, mumbling to Copia as he does so, “Do you remember last night?”

“I… yes, Papa. I remember quite well.” Copia clears his throat and gently takes his hand back from Papa, finally reaching for the bandage and pulling it slowly off of his chest. “I remember promising to think about helping you with the Ghouls, and you promising to help with the text translations.” He flips the gauze over in his hand, appraising the lack of blood on the material with a quick flick of his eyebrows. Copia leans to the side, digging in his kit for a normal bandage, forgoing the medical tape. 

“You are forgetting something, I think.” Copia’s mismatched eyes meet Papa’s own, confusion written on his face as he leans in to place the new bandage on his chest. “I think you are forgetting what I told you to call me, eh?” Copia busies himself for a moment adjusting the bandage and wadding up the old one before he clears his throat, leaning back on his haunches.

“Terzo. I remember.” Papa leans forward towards Copia, smiling crookedly. His hand comes out to cup the side of his face, thumb stroking adoringly along his cheekbone as he does so. The look in his eye is almost predatory-- he’s enjoying playing the game. The hunt, the chase. Perhaps the Cardinal isn’t even aware of who’s hunting who-- the idea is exciting to Papa. 

“You will not be in trouble, caro.” Copia’s eyebrows shoot into his hairline at the term of endearment, his persistent flush growing impressively redder. “No, I give you permission, si? Now, if you were to say my given name, perhaps… I have you killed.” Papa shrugs his shoulders quickly before clapping his hands to his thighs, moving to stand. Copia scrambles backward to give him the room, standing as well. “Let us go get some of these Lucifer forsaken texts, my Cardinale.” 

“You don’t have to help me with these, Terzo--”

“Hush. Of course I don’t. I am Papa. But I’ve decided to. This is something I did when I was young, so it goes quickly, si?” Papa flashes him a smile which Copia returns, somewhat unsure and uneasy.

\--

Less than an hour later sees the two walking down the hallway, arms laden with texts and dictionaries as well as some writing supplies. Copia has relaxed slightly and become more comfortable with Papa’s camaraderie, occasionally tossing a joke or two out and reveling in the laughter of his higher-up. Papa, for his part, has refrained from making any untoward advances, simply content to enjoy the company of Copia. 

“Boss!” The two men turn quickly, eyes flicking from the Ghoul running towards them to each other with concern. Dew is running at them at full tilt, one hand holding his bicep. Blackened blood flows easily through his fingers, despite his attempts to staunch the flow. “Boss! You gotta come to the dens!”

“What’s wrong, Dew? Calm down, talk to me.” Copia beckons a Third generation Ghoul closer, depositing his books and materials into his arms and shooing him off in the direction of his chambers. Beside him, Papa does the same, mumbling to one of his own Ghouls something about “not informing Father” as he does so. 

Dew stops in front of the pair, breathing heavily and holding up a finger on his injured arm. His eyes are wild and frantic, scanning his surroundings quickly as he catches his breath. Finally he straightens with a pained expression, hand gripping his own arm tighter. 

“Boss, you gotta come to the dens. One of the older Ghouls, he hurt Rain. I think he’s got the Sickness. Please, can you help him?” His voice is almost pathetic, laced with fear and panic. It’s Papa who makes eye contact with Dew, leaning in close to him and speaking in soothing tones.

“Dew, was it? Show us where he is. We’re right behind you.” Dew nods and whips around, taking off in the other direction quickly. Papa and Copia, true to their word, follow him as quickly as they can. The Ghoul moves slower than he can under normal circumstances, in order for them to keep up with him. He throws nervous glances behind his shoulder every so often as they near the dens.

From the trapdoor in the floor of the entry hall of the ministry, sounds of shouting and hissing can be heard. A loud, feminine yelp sounds from the door and Dew jumps, turning quickly towards the Cardinal and Papa.

“That sounded like Cumulus, boss. Please, it’s gonna be a blood bath. You gotta intervene. I tried and, well--” He holds up his arm uselessly. “I think they’ll listen to you two. You’re in charge, right?” He’s only slightly frantic and on edge, easing slightly away from the trap door.

“Yeah, right. Stay up here, Dew. I don’t want you to get hurt again.” Copia looks towards Papa, who’s already stepping down into the trapdoor towards the Ghoul dens. “If I can, I’ll send Rain up. Take him to the nursing wing.” He turns and follows Papa down into the dens, the cool air almost instantly chilling him to the bone. 

From farther down the tunnel they can hear the distinct sound of hissing and growling, as well as some screams interspersed. Nothing about the sounds feel human, and the similarity to wolves is not lost on Copia. The sounds make the hair on the back of Copia’s neck rise, goosebumps making their way up his arms. He’s heard of Ghouls going feral-- now was his chance to encounter it in person. Papa crouches ahead of him, motioning for Copia to do the same. He does so, and watches as Papa creeps forward slowly towards an open door on their left. 

“It’s just one Ghoul that’s gone from the sounds of it, Cardinale. Stay behind me and stay careful.” Papa turns on his heels, eyes boring into the Cardinal’s as he finishes. “I’m going to take his attention away from the others. Take care of your Ghouls when you see me get control, si?” He moves to enter the room before Copia’s hand shoots out, gripping Papa’s tightly. Copia squeezes his hand around Papa’s and whispers to him,

“I’ll help you. I’ve made up my mind.” Papa simply smiles and nods at him before entering the room, ushering Copia around behind him.

“Ghoul!” Papa shouts as he stands to his full height behind the rabid Ghoul. On the floor in front of him is Rain, surrounded in a protective huddle of Mountain and one Ghoulette, presumably the Cumulus that Dew mentioned. The other Ghoulette is facing off against the rabid Ghoul, her claws extended and slightly bloodied. Copia feels his heart clench in his chest as he notices that Rain’s mask has been damaged, the Ghoul holding one piece of it in his hand. Where the horn piece and hair of the mask should be, there’s only a black void. 

“The fallen Emeritus, how kind of you.” The rabid Ghoul turns to face Papa, and Copia’s blood runs cold. His eyes are clearly unhinged, claws and fangs extended. The Ghoul is wearing one of the older outfits, and his robe is singed slightly where it meets the ground. “Come to visit us down in our pathetic quarters again?” 

“Now you know that’s--”

“Do I? We all know what happens when you visit. Fallen from grace and doing the only thing that makes you feel powerful again.” The Ghoul has a sneer to his voice, openly mocking Papa. “Pathetic,” he spits. 

Copia’s eyes latch onto Papa as he surreptitiously motions him forward. Taking no chances, Copia scurries forward and kneels quickly beside his Ghouls. Cumulus seems only mildly injured, holding a hand to her cheek and fussing at Rain with the other. Mountain stands tall above them, arms outspread and chest heaving in barely restrained fury. Copia reaches forward and takes the pieces of Rain’s mask from him as the Ghoul makes a piteous noise halfway between a whine and a yelp.

“Is anyone else hurt besides you two?” Copia whispers to them. Behind him, he can hear Papa still trading verbal barbs with the feral Ghoul and it’s only the dedication to his Ghouls that keeps him from running to him. 

“Dew is--” Cumulus starts, before Copia cuts her off.

“Upstairs. He’s the one that alerted us. He’s alright. He’s standing by to get you guys some help. Do you think you can walk and make it to him?” Rain nods, taking Cumulus’ hand and standing unsteadily. The pair of them maneuver around Copia, standing with his arms out protectively between them and the feral Ghoul. Once his Ghouls are properly out of the room, he turns his attention fully to Papa. “Do you need my help, Terzo?”

“Terzo?” The feral Ghoul turns his eyes onto Copia and he freezes in place. “You allow someone below you to address you like this? Your brother would be embarrassed to know you.” 

“Cardinale, you can go. I can handle this one.” Papa rolls his sleeves up to his elbows, pointedly staring the Ghoul down, his gaze never wavering. Copia hesitates for just a fraction of a second, turning and moving towards the door. As he goes, he hears the final barb by the Ghoul.

“Bringing your fuck toys to watch you fight now? That’s a new low, even for the Third.” There’s a dry laugh from Papa before Copia rounds the corner, the sounds of fighting becoming muffled behind him. 

At the top of the stairs he finds a gaggle of his Ghouls, staring at him with wide eyes. No doubt they heard the use of the nickname, as well as the rabid Ghoul taunting them for it.

“Why are you waiting?” he asks, moving towards the smallest Ghoul protectively. Over the weeks after their summoning, he’s grown to love and care for them. His heart aches as he surveys their collective injuries.

“Rain wanted to wait for you.” Dew casts his eyes towards Rain, smiling softly under his mask. “You know how he loves his daddy. Ouch!” he yells when Mountain’s tail slaps him sharply on the back of the head. 

“Alright, then daddy I’ll be. Let’s get going.” Copia waves his arm towards the direction of the medical wing, leading his Ghouls in a hurried group.


	7. The Emperor, Reverse.

Copia settles into his chair behind the large oaken desk with a groan, his pounding head coming to rest in his hands as he leans over the desk. His suit coat was already thrown along the back of the chair as he changed hastily from his suit into his lounge wear-- a dress shirt and comfortable pants. From the direction of the door, he can hear the two Ghoulettes chittering quietly to each other, attempting not to bother him. The shorter one, Cumulus, is sporting a large piece of gauze on her neck and forearm, and her mask has been swapped out for an older model while hers is repaired from the damage that the feral Ghoul had wrought. The taller Ghoulette, Cirrus, has managed to escape the fighting with only a few wounds to her hands-- most likely from her own vicious attacks. 

“Girls, come over,” Copia says quietly, lifting his head and waving them over to the desk. He motions to the chairs in front of his desk and the Ghoulettes sit easily, the taller one swinging her legs over the arm of the chair comfortably and resting her elbow on her knee. Copia cock an eyebrow at her until she fixes herself, sitting properly. 

“We’re really sorry, boss, we didn’t mean--” Cumulus stops speaking as Copia holds up a hand to silence her. 

“I know. It wasn’t your fault at all. The way that Papa explains these things to me… after a time, some Ghouls just go feral. There’s nothing to do about it.” Even through the old, solid mask, Copia can sense Cumulus’ frown. He sighs and leans forward, making eye contact with the girls purposefully. “That’s not to say that it will happen to you. The Sister Imperator believes that good relations between the Clergy and the Ghouls prevents this type of thing.” 

“So it doesn’t spread, then? Rain will be fine, he’s just being pissy.” Cirrus flexes her hands in front of her, making a show of inspecting her nails. Beside her, Cumulus sighs, the sound echoing slightly inside of the closed off mask.

“She’s worried, boss, she just doesn’t show it well. We’re all worried.” Copia nods, a tight lipped smile on his face. Cumulus reaches out her hand blindly, taking a deep breath when Cirrus grips it in hers tightly. 

“Mountain should be back with the other two soon. Have you managed to find the other ones? Aether? Swiss?” When the girls shake their heads no, Copia runs his hands over his face once more. “Alright. The two of you are alright, so I’m sending you back to the dens for tonight. If you find Swiss or Aether, let them know what happened. I’m keeping Rain with me for the night.” 

“Sure, we could do that for you. Do you want us to go and find Mountie and the others and send them this way, or do they already have instructions?” Cirrus crosses one leg over the other, leaning on her knee and propping her chin in her hand, Cumulus’ hand still gripped tightly in her other. 

“They know. Ter--... eh, Papa sent one of his Ghouls with a missive to the hospital wing. Arrived just as I was leaving to meet you two here. It seems we are scattered all over the Abbey tonight, eh?” The Cardinal leans back in his hair, wincing slightly at the loud creaking that emanates from the mechanism underneath it. 

“Yeah, well. He works in mysterious ways, boss. Isn’t that what those people say?” Cirrus grins sarcastically at Copia as he huffs out a laugh. “You would know best, I suppose.” 

“I would, you’re right on that. Alright, girls. Go get your rest. You’ll see the others soon. You should be safe tonight but if something happens, you know where I am.” Copia claps his hands together sharply, picking up a pen and turning to his neglected paperwork. “Anything else before we finish here?” 

“Boss just, um. Thank you.” Cumulus pipes up, inclining her head towards Copia slightly as she moves to stand. Cirrus mimics her, rising to her feet with lithe movements, sketching a bow towards the Cardinal. 

“Of course. Dismissed.” Copia turns to his paperwork, signing a few of them as the Ghoulettes leave. They shut the door quietly behind them with a click, leaving Copia alone in his office for the second time that day. Almost instantly, he heaves a sigh and relaxes in his chair.

The weight of the day settles on his body and he groans as his muscles untense for the first time. He hadn’t realized how on edge he had been until he was safe in his office once more. Blinking back exhaustion, his eyes wander to the fireplace, and then over to the drink cart that holds his alcohol. With a mighty grunt, he heaves himself out of his office chair and moves over to the drink cart, ignoring the aching in his calves. 

The Cardinal pours himself a finger of whiskey and downs it in one shot before pouring another glass. He coughs slightly as the alcohol hits the back of his throat, moving slowly to stand in front of the fireplace. He contemplates it for a moment as he takes another sip before setting the glass down on the small wooden table nearby. 

“The things I do for these idiots,” he grumbles to himself as he kneels in front of the hearth, gathering old religious pamphlets and layering them on the iron grate in the fireplace. Two reasonably sized logs join the papers, and before long the fire is crackling away. Copia stokes it lightly with the iron poker set, sipping at his whiskey and relaxing as the heat melts his stress away. 

For the moment, all is calm. 

The calming atmosphere doesn’t last long, however, as the door swings open to reveal Mountain, Dew, and Rain traipsing through. Mountain and Dew are supporting Rain easily between their arms, half carrying him. One of Dew’s arms is bandaged quite tightly in gauze, but Mountain seems unharmed. They guide the small Water Ghoul over to the sitting area where Copia is, lowering him onto a plush love couch beside the fire. Dew sits next to him carefully, rubbing his leg in comfort as he does so, turning to Copia to address him.

“He had a tough time. The nurses had to hold him down to peel off the rest of that broken mask, so he’s a little woozy. Poor little guy.” Dew pats his thigh affectionately, frowning at Copia. “You said he can stay with you, right boss?”

“Yes, that’s alright for the night, I suppose. He should be okay on that couch, there.” Mountain outstretches a hand to Rain, patting his shoulder lightly before letting it fall. “Mountain, it’s alright. He’ll be safe here,” Copia reassures him. 

“It’s a good thing Papa took care of the rabid fucker. I was tempted to rip him apart myself after that,” Dew snarls, a low growl sounding in the back of his throat as his tail begins to twitch. “Mother fucker wants to put the hurtin’ on MY Water Ghoul?”

“Dew.” One word from Mountain and Dew sighs, his whole body untensing as he realizes where they are. He smiles apologetically to the Cardinal and to Mountain, in turn, his eyes moving back over to his friend. 

“It’s alright. I share your sentiments.” Copia drops a hand onto Dew’s shoulder, squeezing affectionately. “Fire Ghouls, eh?” Mountain huffs a laugh behind him, and Copia continues. “You two need to go get your rest. He’ll be safe. I’ll watch him.” He waves them towards the door, mumbling more reassurances and reminding them of the time as he does so. Mountain and Dew leave, albeit somewhat reluctantly, pulling the door shut quietly behind them. 

Copia turns his attention to Rain, frowning slightly at the dazed look in his eyes behind the makeshift mask and the gauze wrapped around him. He guides the Ghoul to lay down on the couch, rearranging the pillows and dragging a blanket over him as he does so. Rain snuggles in easily, burrowing his face into the pillow and hugging the blanket tightly to him. He sighs, drifting off to sleep as he does so. Before long, Copia can hear the deep, even breathing of the Ghoul, interspersed with soft snoring. Dew was right-- he was exhausted from his ordeal in the medical wing.

With a groan, Copia sinks to the floor beside him, leaning heavily against the couch and stoking the fire every so often to make sure that Rain was kept comfortable and warm. He goes through another glass of whiskey like this, listening to the crackling of the fire in the hearth and the slow, even breathing of his Ghoul behind him. At one point, Rain twitches in his sleep and his tail comes to drape over Copia’s shoulder like a warm, heavy arm. Copia pats it fondly, smiling to himself as he finishes off his drink and sets the cup by the hearth. 

It feels like only minutes later that Copia awakens with a start, his eyes instantly flicking to the fire in the hearth. It’s burned down to ashes now, and he grumbles to himself as he stands, stretching. A knock at the door makes him jump slightly, and he realizes that must be what woke him up, rather than the failing fire or the Water Ghoul sleeping peacefully behind him. His joints pop loudly and his muscles groan in protest as he staggers to his door, unlocking it as quietly as he can and swinging it inward. 

“Caro! You are home!” Papa stands outside in the hallway, eyes flickering to the end of the hall and back to Copia, standing in front of him with a worried expression. “I...seem to be in need of help once more, si?” Copia closes his eyes and sighs, waving him into his chambers and shutting the door behind him. On the couch, Rain snorts in his sleep and buries his face farther into the pillow, one hand dragging the blanket farther over his makeshift mask. 

“Go in the bedroom, we can talk there,” Copia whispers to Papa, pointing towards the bedroom. “I’m going to get the fire going again for Rain… burned down a bit.” Papa’s eyes drift over to the sleeping Ghoul and he nods, holding his finger to his lips and smiling softly as he backs towards the bedroom. 

Copia toes his shoes off, creeping silently to the fireplace and crouching in front of it. He adds another two logs to the smoldering embers of the previous fire, blowing and fanning the flame until it reignites properly. He adds a few more crumpled papers to it before poking them under the logs and replacing the iron poker next to the fireplace. Satisfied with the now roaring blaze, he turns to Rain. The Ghoul is still sleeping peacefully, his tail now curled around himself. With a nod, Copia turns and moves towards the bedroom, finding Papa standing at the doorway waiting for him.

“Come on,” Copia whispers to Papa, taking his hand reflexively and drawing him further into the room, clicking the small door shut behind them. “I don’t want Rain to wake up. He needs his rest, especially after what he’s been through.” Copia’s gaze meets Terzo’s as he mumbles, “Thank you, by the way. Again.”

“It had to be done. Is he okay?” Papa jerks his chin in the direction of the sitting room. When Copia nods, he continues. “Good. I was worried. Water Ghouls, they are less resilient, si?” Papa shoves his hands in his pockets, awkwardly looking around the room. “This is your bedroom? I remember when I was Cardinale… seems smaller, now.”

“Yes? What else would it be, Papa? Extra Ghoul storage?” Copia laughs slightly, hand going to the back of his head as he, too, feels the awkwardness of the situation. A higher up member of the Clergy is currently standing in his bedroom-- the same Clergy member that was recently pressing him into a table and making advances. A flush rises on his cheeks and he’s suddenly grateful for the darkened room. 

“Yes, you are right. Apologies, si? I am nervous.” Papa clears his throat and jerks his chin towards a chair in the corner of the room. “Will that be okay? I did not want to take these injuries to the medical wing. I’m sure you understand, Cardinale.” 

“It’s fine, Papa. Truly. Make yourself comfortable.” Copia slips out of the bedroom quickly to retrieve his medical bag, checking once more Rain. The Ghoul is still sleeping soundly, chittering quietly to himself inside his new mask and twitching in his dreams. Copia smiles at him like a proud father, clutching the bag close to his chest and sneaking back into the bedroom quietly. 

When he returns, his eyes go quickly to the chair in the corner of the room, now occupied by a shirtless and pantless Papa. The curtains have been drawn back from the window and a thin stream of light from the moon illuminates the corner well enough for the Cardinal to see. As usual, Papa has folded his clothes and neatly stacked them on the end of the bed to avoid wrinkles. 

“Ahh, I see you’re eh… comfortable,” Copia mumbles, moving swiftly over to Papa and squeezing the bag, holding it up for him to see. “What part am I fixing this time, Papa?” 

“Cardinale,” Papa scolds, “We have discussed, si? You call me Terzo.” He leans forward slightly in the chair, making pointed eye contact with Copia. “I like it.” He tilts his head and smiles until Copia does, patting his thighs with both hands and leaning back in the chair once he’s satisfied. 

“Right… Terzo. How badly did that Ghoul hurt you this time? You seem better than last time at least.” Copia leans over Papa, inspecting his chest and arms. There’s only a thin, fine scratch on his chest that’s just barely weeping blood. “Are you even hurt at all?”

“Mm. A little bit.” Papa stretches out his leg, giving the Cardinal a view of his calve. Copia instantly falls to his knees, cradling Papa’s leg in his hands and turning it gently to afford himself a better view of the wound. It’s a lengthwise gash from the back of his knee to his ankle, but it doesn’t look as deep as Copia thought at first. It’s deeper where the meat of his muscle is, but tapers off cleanly. 

“This counts as ‘hurt’, for the future, Terzo. Sathanas, you get yourself hurt more often than I’d like… eh, more often than you should, that is.” Copia pulls out a length of gauze from the medical bag, inspecting Papa’s leg once more. “I think we can get away with just a gauze wrap, this time. But for Lucifer’s sake, stop diving headlong into shit.” 

“I think you are warming up to me, Cardinale.” Papa holds his leg out delicately as Copia wraps the gauze around his calve, tsking and waving a finger at him. “I am thinking that you are beginning to like me, even.” 

“Of course I like you, Terzo.” Copia huffs and ties off the gauze, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand before he reaches for a few butterfly pins to keep the gauze together. He pins it into place and tests it, looking up at Papa again. “I’d like you a lot more if you kept yourself in one piece for longer than a few days.” 

“Fair!” Papa laughs loudly before stifling it with a hand over his mouth. Both of the men perk up slightly, listening for any sound from the living room. When nothing arises to indicate an awake Ghoul, Papa continues. “I try to hurt myself less, si?”

“I’d feel a lot better if you allowed one of my Ghouls to help you out. Maybe Dew. He’s got some fight in him and he’s more than capable. Let him go with you, at least.” Copia takes a deep breath, eyes sliding to the floor as he speaks. “I would feel more comfortable knowing that you’re safer. I can sleep better.”

Papa puts his hand under Copia’s chin, tilting it upward and forcing eye contact. Their two-toned eyes meet each other slowly as Copia’s face blushes in the soft light of the moon. Papa slides his thumb across Copia’s plush lower cheek, his own lips turning up softly into a smile. 

“You don’t sleep well now, caro? Is your heart so sick for worry of your Papa?” His tone is calm, but there’s an underlying tension in his words that’s palpable to both men. Copia merely nods, his tongue coming out to swipe where Papa’s thumb had just been. Papa stands slowly from the chair, resting his weight on his uninjured leg. Copia’s head turns upward to follow the motion as he swallows hard.

“Pa-- Terzo?” Copia stutters on his name again, bringing another smile to Papa’s lips. Papa reaches a hand down and Copia takes it, rising to his feet as Papa pulls him in close to him. “What are--”

“Would you sleep better if I laid with you, Cardinale? This is the job of a Papa, after all… to make sure that those in his care are comfortable.” Copia swallows hard, tongue tracing along his lower lip again. Papa takes initiative, pushing the smaller man backward gently until his legs hit the bed and he sits down hard. 

Papa urges Copia back on the bed until he’s laying on his side before crawling behind him luxuriously slowly, settling down on the bed with a groan of satisfaction. One of his arms comes to wrap around Copia as he rubs his chest slowly. His fingers dance over the buttons of Copia’s dress shirt; he doesn’t undo them, he only lingers.

“Is this okay, Cardinale?” Papa whispers, his breath hot on the shell of Copia’s ear. The Cardinal nods, and Papa begins undoing the buttons slowly. His shirt parts easily as Papa runs his hand down the planes of his chest, humming in appreciation as he gets closer to the hemline of Copia’s pants. “And this?”

“Yes, Terzo. It’s all okay,” Copia breathes out, intertwining his fingers with Papa’s where their arms lay above their heads. He startles slightly when Papa presses a hot kiss to the back of his neck, lips dragging against the soft skin there. When Papa speaks, a shiver runs up Copia’s spine at the feeling of the warm breath and soft lips against the nape of his neck-- this is real, this is happening.

“I have longed to do this, Cardinale. That morning with the fruit, you see.” Another kiss. “After you left, I pleasured myself to the thought of your lips on mine, as they were on the fruit.” A quick press of his tongue to the side of Copia’s neck, just below his ear. Papa shifts slightly, moving a little farther up the bed, allowing him to lean over Copia and continue pressing kisses to his neck. “I thought of your lips on the tea cup… lush and full, and I thought of them wrapped around my cock.”

“Fuck,” Copia sighs, his eyes drifting shut as his hips move on their own, seeking some sort of pressure for his hardening cock. “Then the robe--”

“Was meant as an invitation, Cardinale… I knew I had to be more obvious.” Papa presses a wet kiss to Copia’s pulse point, his teeth grazing the skin there slightly as he does so. His hand grows bolder, teasing the hemline of the Cardinal’s lounge pants. He runs his fingers through the trail of hair below Copia’s navel, humming in appreciation as he gets closer to his prize.

“That night with the whiskey, when you called me to help you. You wanted me to stay?” Copia’s breath catches in his throat at the realization. Papa hums an affirmative, his lips busy sucking on Copia’s neck, creating a deep purple mark there. “You wanted to be with me?” Papa grinds his hips slightly forward into Copia, the evidence of his arousal apparent against the smaller man’s ass.

“As I do now, Cardinale.” He grinds forward once more, stronger this time, and Copia can feel his hardness pressing against him through the thin material of his boxers. Copia half turns in his arms, bringing his hand to Papa’s cheek and pulling him down to meet his lips. 

It’s soft at first, a tentative kiss that turns into something more heated. Copia moans softly against Papa’s lips as the kiss deepens, his own hips moving back against Papa’s hardened cock. Finally, Papa’s hand dips beneath the hem of Copia’s pants to grip his cock, squeezing him with one firm stroke. Copia’s mouth drops open against Papa’s, allowing his tongue to sweep into his mouth before he bites on his lower lip, his hand moving faster on his cock as he does so. 

“Sathanas, Terzo,” Copia whines against him, his own movements a feedback loop of pleasure-- he grinds himself into Papa’s cock, only to move forward into his hand, stroking him expertly. “Please…”

“Mm, please what, caro? What are you pleasing, besides your Papa?” Papa smiles against Copia’s lips, moving away from him to suck on his throat once more, continuing to mark him with his nips and kisses. Copia huffs in frustration and Papa speeds the movement of his hand, running his thumb over the head of Copia’s cock as he does so, earning him another deep and throaty groan from the smaller man. 

“Fuck, I’m so close… please,” Copia buries his face in his pillow, gasping and panting as his hips stutter in their thrusts, cock sliding easily in Papa’s fist. He bites the pillow to silence himself as he cums, the warm ropes of cum wetting the front of his pants in bursts as he whines and moans. Papa ruts himself against Copia quickly before pressing his face into his neck, biting him and groaning as he cums as well. 

The two of them lay there for a moment, breathing deeply and coming down from their shared climax. Copia moves first, rolling away from Papa to grab a handful of tissues from his nightstand and cleaning himself off. He tosses them off of the bed and grabs another handful, handing them to Papa, who does the same. Copia rolls onto his back, pulling Papa on top of his chest and running a hand through his hair. 

“Did that just--”

“Si, Cardinale. It did. I gave you a spectacular handjob and now we are eh… cuddling, it seems.” Papa smiles as Copia’s chest heaves with silent laughter. Papa runs his hand across Copia’s chest and stomach, marveling at the man underneath him. He presses soft kisses to the skin that he can reach, humming as he does so. The two pass a few moments in relative silence before Copia speaks up once more. 

“Terzo, perhaps we should tell the Sister Imperator about the Ghoul--”

“Cardinale, stop that thought on its track per favore. If the Sister knows about how I am dealing with the Ghouls, there is a chance that I could be killed. Do you want this thing?” Papa lifts his head and looks at Copia, narrowing his eyes slightly. “Do you want me dead, Cardinale?”

“No! Sathanas, no. But it’s just… this is dangerous, Papa. You could be killed doing this. Don’t you think your father should--”

“My father should rot in his grave. Stronzo.” Papa gets up quickly, pulling on his clothes and speaking to himself in rapid Italian, too quick for Copia to follow although he catches the words “midshow” and “embarrassment”. Copia stands as well, attempting to stop Papa and talk to him. Papa cuts him off, interrupting him in Italian as he moves to the door and throws it open. “Stupido! Idiota! Pensare di fidarmi di te!” 

“Papa, wait!” Copia hurries after him, finally intercepting him at the main door to the hallway as he speaks in a rushed whisper. “This situation is bigger than both of us! You said they’re going feral, and you know how much it takes to contain them. Papa, you’ve been hurt more in the past three days than you ever were before!”

“And now I am hurt more, Cardinale. I should never have trusted someone. Already, so quickly you are back to calling me Papa and not Terzo!” Papa swings open the door, stepping into the hallway and turning back to Copia quickly. “Keep your Fire Ghoul. I do not need help. Not from your Ghoul, and not from you.” 

Copia is left standing at the threshold to his offices as Papa walks away in a huff, muttering curses to himself as he goes. Slowly, Copia backs into his chambers and shuts the door quietly, leaning his head against it and sighing deeply. From the sitting area, he hears Rain sit up on the couch.

“Tough night?” the Ghoul asks.

“Go to sleep, Rain. You need rest. So do I, apparently.” Copia heaves another sigh and makes his way back to his bed to sleep.

Alone.


	8. The Empress, Reverse.

Copia awakes with a start to a rapping on his door before it swings open, Rain’s new masked face peeking through at him. The Cardinal can see into the room beyond slightly, as it’s still quite dim-- the sun hasn’t risen all the way yet. Rain smiles apologetically, moving into the room and clicking the door shut behind him quietly before moving to the foot of the bed. His eyes move across the bed to the wall, and back to the floor, studiously looking anywhere but Copia.

“Sorry to wake you, boss. Emeritus here to see you, he said it was urgent?” Rain raps the footboard of the bed with his knuckles, clearly working up the nerves to continue his statement. His foot scuffs slightly on the floor as he fidgets.

“What is it, Rain?” Copia sits up in bed fully, noting with a grimace that he’s slept in his clothes. After Papa left last night, it was all he could do was sit in bed and think. Finally, he had fallen back onto the pillows and smelled Papa’s cologne-- unwilling to move, he had simply fallen asleep. Sighing heavily, Copia gestures to a spare cassock hanging over the arm of a chair. “Bring that to me while you talk.” 

“Right, um, well--” Rain cuts himself off as he grabs the cassock and brings it to Copia, holding it as he slides his arms through. “Well its just that the nurse said my new mask will be in by tomorrow, so I thought, now that I’m healed and feeling better, I could go back to the dens? I mean, not that I don’t like it here, I just--”

“You want Mountain?” Copia arches a brow towards Rain, smiling when he nods, twisting his hands in front of him. The Cardinal does up the buttons of his cassock quickly, nodding his thanks to Rain when the Ghoul hands him his sash. Knowing how closely his Ghouls all got along never fails to bring a smile to his face. “As long as you feel healed, Rain, I can’t keep you here. Watch out for yourself, though. I have a feeling things will get worse before they get better.” 

“Thanks boss!” Rain practically leaps towards the door, leaving it slightly ajar as he exits the bedroom. From a distance, Copia can hear as the Ghoul addresses Papa in a more polite tone than he had taken with him. “He’ll be right out, Your Eminence! He wasn’t quite prepared for visitors.” There’s a moment of silence, and Copia strains his ears to hear if his Papa says anything about him. When the silence continues, he huffs a sigh and plants the biretta firmly on his head, adjusting his gloves one more time before leaving the room himself. 

“Papa, I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.” Papa sits in front of the dead and cold fireplace, mitre firmly on his head. He waves a hand to Copia without turning around-- something that strikes the Cardinal as odd. He rushes forward, words falling from his lips unbidden as he does so. “Terzo, I’m so sorry for last night. I never should have suggested what I did and… Sathanas, especially when I did. It was awful timing and I know my words hurt you and I--”

“Cardinal, stop your blathering.” Copia stops just behind the chair that Papa is sitting in, his blood running cold. “Your quarrels with my brother are not of interest to me. If I bothered myself with every Sibling or Clergy member that he slept with, I’d be run ragged. Come, sit.” 

Copia gathers himself quickly, willing the flush back down his face as he does so. With practiced poise he brushes his hands down his cassock, wiping away invisible dust as though he could wipe away his embarrassment. He moves around the large chair to sit in front of Papa, noting with a delayed horror that he was now face to face with Terzo’s older brother-- Papa Emeritus the Second. 

“I’m sorry, Your Eminence. I thought you were your brother. We had an argument, and--”

“And it’s no concern of mine, that’s what you were going to say, right Cardinal?” Secondo lifts an eyebrow and fixes Copia with a stern gaze, only backing down when the younger man nods. “Good. I’m not here to discuss any petty misgivings you may have had with him. Alessandro has spats as easily as bitches have litters...but he is the reason I’m here, yes.” Secondo rolls his hand with his eyes, crossing a leg over the other lazily. 

“Ale--” Copia cuts himself off at another stern look from Secondo. Right, Clergy rules. He takes another breath and tries again. “Is something wrong with the Third? Besides the argument, he seemed to be doing alright.” 

“He’s confided in me the same things that he’s told you… and I assume showed you, if his bandages are anything to go by.” Secondo clears his throat quickly, leaning in and dropping his voice. “He’s not as strong as he looks, Cardinal. Whatever this argument was, I suggest that you rectify it quickly. I came here to ask you to look after him. I worry that he may be getting himself too deep into something that he does not understand.”

“You want me to just… watch him? You don’t want me to intervene or anything?” Copia shakes his head, confused by the request. His hands tighten around the sash of his cassock, the leather of his gloves creaking slightly as he does so. “I’m sorry, Papa, but I don’t seem to understand.” 

“He’s going to push himself too far, too fast. You and I both know how he’s dealing with the Ghouls, right?” Secondo nods in an infantilizing manner and waits until Copia nods in agreement. “Good. I know my brother. He will want to show off, and it’s going to get him hurt. He won’t let me look after him. Lucifer knows, I’ve done that most of our lives. It’s got to be you.” 

“I don’t know if he’ll let me in anymore, Papa. The argument…” Copia trails off, biting his lower lip as he regains his composure. “I’m worried he won’t allow me to apologize.”

“Do you want to apologize, Cardinal?” 

“Of course I do!” Copia’s emotion betrays him in how tightly he clutches to the folds of his cassock, face heating quicker than he’d like. To his credit, Papa says nothing about the obvious flush that the younger man is sporting.

“Then he’ll allow you. He has an excellent way of sensing sincerity. It may take him time to decide on just how sincere you are, but he will understand and grasp it if you let him. If I ever give you advice on wooing my brother, let it be that.” Papa lets the silence rest for a moment before leaning forward to address Copia once more. “Consider this a personal request from the Clergy, Cardinal.” 

With that, he stands to leave, looking to Copia expectantly. Copia hurriedly mimics his action once his brain catches up, sketching a quick bow to him before drifting off into thought once more. He only barely registers the door swing shut behind Secondo and his receding footsteps as he continues farther down the Papal hallway. 

Hours later sees Copia still hunched over his desk, most of the paperwork that had been stacked there mostly signed and worked through. On the other side of his desk, however, looms the staggeringly large stack of texts to be translated for the Sister Imperator. He’s managed to get through half of one book, but without Papa’s help it’s beginning to stagnate. Nevertheless, it needs to be done. 

Heaving a sigh, Copia takes the nearest book and opens it, hoping that a book he hasn’t studied with Papa will distract him enough to calm his mind. His reference book for translation, well worn and beginning to fall apart, is already open on his lap as he goes back and forth between pages. A loose leaf of parchment paper lays spread out on his left side as he jots notes and quick translations. It’s something that Copia is used to doing, and before long he’s engrossed in his work, soothing in it’s easy repetition. 

He only looks up from the task when his stomach grumbles, noting the time with a start. It’s been about an hour since he started, and the sun is finally shining directly overhead, warming his room to a comfortable degree. Copia stands and stretches, cracking his back and replacing his materials. The book was small enough that he was able to finish about a quarter of it, but it’s only a small sense of satisfaction when he considers the rest of the stack. 

A brief consideration of going to visit Papa flashes through his mind as he glances at the clock on his fireplace mantle. It’s only a little past noon, and there’s a chance that he’s not even awake yet. In the end, he decides on a brief lunch and a stroll through Papa Emeritus the First’s garden before heading to Terzo’s chambers to attempt to smooth things over. Perhaps the clean air will help him figure out the words he needs to say, as an added bonus. 

The walk to the kitchen is mostly empty of any Siblings or Ghouls running through-- it’s a weekend and most of them opted to stay in their dorms for the day, relaxing or catching up on their personal matters. It’s more relaxing than it has any right to be, given the conversation that Copia knows must happen soon. Nervousness gnaws at his gut as he considers how to go about it. Should he start with sorry? Address what happened? Just say, ‘hey your hand on my dick felt great and I just stopped thinking’? None of those options are particularly appealing. 

Copia nudges the door to the kitchens open and is greeted instantly with the smell of cooking meat. He sniffs slightly and his nose twinges in revolt: too much cumin, not enough oregano. He makes his way to the back of the long cafeteria style room, swinging open the shiny doors to the kitchen. Copia is only barely surprised when he sees Dew standing over an open flame on the gas stove, hands on his hips and frowning at what Copia can only assume used to be meat.

“Dew, what have you done now?” Copia sighs, moving towards the refrigerator as he steps over inexplicable puddles of water on the kitchen floor. 

“Hey boss!” Dew grabs a nearby lid and slams it over the top of the frying pan, smothering the fire that’s igniting on the lump of meat. 

“Do I need to call someone?” The Cardinal opens the fridge and bends down, delicately holding his cassock out of the continued puddle on the floor. He takes a small container of leftover pasta that he made the day before, popping it open to take a sniff before nodding to himself and shutting the door of the fridge with a swift hip check. Dew tosses him a fork as he leans against the counter, crossing his ankles and beginning to eat. 

“Thanks but no thanks, boss. I gotta do this one on my own.” Dew takes the now extinguished frying pan and slides the charred remains into the trash can. “Rain needs food so I was voluntold to get him some.” 

“Voluntold?” Copia smiles broadly as he continues to eat, perfectly content in the moment with his cold pasta and his fiery Ghoul. 

“Yeah, Cirrus said I should go get him some food, and it wasn’t exactly a subtle command, ya know?” Dew fishes around in the refrigerator and pulls out another hunk of meat, putting it onto the frying pan and disposing of the wrapping. His tail comes up quickly, whipping a small ball of fire onto the burner and igniting it. Almost instantly the meat begins to sizzle in the pan. Copia forks another bite into his mouth before pointing at the stove with his utensil.

“The heat is going to sear it too fast. Cool it down a bit if you want an even cook.” Dew looks at him from the side of his eyes and dials down the gas on the stove, tail twitching as he sees the effect it has on the cooking. 

“That explains a lot,” Dew mumbles to himself with a cursory glance towards the trash can. He sprinkles on some spices with more direction from Copia and pretty soon, the kitchen is filled with the scent of properly cooking meat, seasoned to perfection. As the meat sizzles, Dew turns and mirrors Copia’s stance against the counter. “What are you doin’ down here? Don’t you usually just have your meals delivered, Mister Big Shot?”

“Yes, I suppose I do,” Copia admits with a hearty laugh, shaking his head. “I sneak down here to cook sometimes… it soothes my mind. Being able to feed the rats something homecooked is nice as well.” He spears another morsel of the meal and eats it, chewing thoughtfully before speaking again. To his credit, Dew remains quiet and allows him to work through it. “I suppose it’s my comfort area. The smell of food cooking was always one of my favourites.”

“Well what’s got you needin’ comfort, boss? Besides the fiasco with Rain.” Perhaps to give him some cover, Dew turns his back to Copia to fully tend to the food on the stove, even though it’s cooking just fine without him. 

“I got into a fight with Papa. I’m supposing that Rain told you and the others?” Dew shrugs in a noncommittal way as Copia continues speaking around another bite of the pasta. “I told him we should go to the Sister Imperator about how he’s taking care of the Ghouls, right after we--” Copia stops sharply, coughing on his pasta as the memory floods back into his mind.

“After you?” Dew prods him carefully, scavenging the cabinets in the kitchen for a small plate to transfer the cooked meat onto. 

“After I offered to have you help him with it.” Copia lapses into an awkward silence, scraping the bottom of his container with his fork and gathering the last bits of his meal. As he puts the container in the sink and rinses it, he clears his throat and continues speaking. “You don’t have to, but I thought--”

“I’ll do it.” Dew lifts the plate in his hand slightly for emphasis, saying, “Those Ghouls fucked up my friend. It’s the least I could do to help Papa, after he did what I couldn’t do in the moment.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Absolutely, boss. You go tell Pops I’ll work with him.” Dew starts to leave the kitchen before turning back swiftly. “And don’t tell him I called him Pops. He seems like he’d take issue with that.” With a quick wink and a flick of his tail, Dew’s gone. 

Copia, now alone in the kitchen, sighs as he replaces the now clean tupperware onto the shelves and turns to leave as well. He grips the edge of the counter tightly, leaning his head down before steeling himself and beginning to leave. Once more, he lifts his cassock carefully and steps around the puddles of water, making a mental note to contact the housekeeping Ghouls. 

From the kitchens, it’s a quick walk across the ground to the gardens, but it’s one that Copia savours every moment of. The grounds are quiet for this time on a weekend, and only a few lights are shining in the windows of the Sibling dorms-- most everyone seems to have either slept in late or congregated in the common rooms. The path to the gardens is empty save for one Earth Ghoulette, who seems busy trying to entice a squirrel over to her. 

He enters the garden and makes a beeline for his favourite bench, sitting down with a groan and crossing one leg over the other, stretching an arm out along the back of the bench. With his other hand, he digs in a pocket of his cassock and pulls out a small book, opening it to a dog eared page. The Cardinal squints for a moment before grumbling, digging in the same pocket for his reading glasses which he perches on his nose, the rat charm that dangles from one stem jingling lightly as he does. It’s a warm day with a light breeze, and the wind carries the scent of the apple trees growing farther out on the Abbey grounds, as well as some of the fires that are lit in the hearths scattered throughout the Abbey. Copia tilts his face towards the sun and smiles-- it’s perfect Autumn weather, and perfect to read in. Soon enough he finds himself less and less worried about the upcoming conversion with Papa. 

He would simply march to his chambers, knock on the door, and explain his intentions behind what he said. He was just worried, that’s all. Surely Papa would understand and forgive him. Papa would be worried if Copia were in that position as well, wouldn’t he? His heart catches in his chest when he’s faced the thought that maybe Papa /wouldn’t/ care. Copia shakes his head quickly, dispelling the thought with the sound of his rat charm jingling from his glasses once more. Papa would care-- he has to. They share something deeper than just a material connection, don’t they? After the secrets they’ve shared, and the whiskey over his bandages… Copia feels his heart squeeze. There’s certainly more there for him. 

With renewed determination and a plan formed in his mind, he snaps the book shut quickly and replaces it in his pocket, shoving the glasses with it. He leaves the garden swiftly, stopping to wave lightly at Papa Emeritus the First inside his greenhouse. The older man waves back with a huge grin on his face, holding up what appears to be an orchid. Copia smiles and nods, laughing to himself at the spectacle of a Satanic Pope grinning like a fool over plants. 

The walk back to the Papal corridor passes quickly this time with his strides growing longer as his end of the conversation settles more firmly in his mind. Maybe this would be the day, then-- he’ll confess his feelings, and Papa will return them. They could be a couple! Copia’s heart pounds at the excitement and his stomach flutters as he thinks about the possibility. He rounds the corner sharply at a half jog and stops cold in his tracks. 

Leaving Papa Emeritus the Third’s chambers is a Sister of Sin, and she’s wearing a rather satisfied expression, like the cat who got the cream. Some words are exchanged between the Sister and Papa, but the ringing in Copia’s ears is loud enough to drown them out. He stands, stunned, as the Sister flounces past him and greets him with a quick bow of her head and a smile. His hand comes up to greet her in return, even as he stares at Papa. His heartbeat pounds in his ears and before he knows it, he’s moving towards the door that Papa now stands at. 

“Cardinale. I thought you wouldn’t come for days. Less of a backbone than I thought, si?” Papa leans against his door nonchalantly, a lit cigarette between his fingers. He’s nude from the waist up, and the silk pajama bottoms that he’s wearing are slung obscenely low on his hips. With a hard swallow, Copia’s eyes trace the line of hair that leads from his navel down to the barest reveal of his shaft. 

“We have one fight and you invite someone else into your bed? Was that all I was to you? A conquest? Someone to add to your list?” The words come before he’s ready, and Copia can feel his face heat. Papa takes a drag off of his cigarette and exhales before addressing him. 

“I invited a Sister that I’ve been with previously, Cardinale. She is eh… stress release.” Papa waves his hand dismissively, lips cocking in a smile. “She knows this, and I know that I am release for her. Now, as for your implication… We are not one, Copia. I may be your Papa, but I am not /your/ Papa, si? Make sense?”

“Well maybe I wanted you to be.” Copia lets the silence hang, just as stunned by his revelation as Papa seems to be. When he speaks again his voice is low, and terse. “Maybe I was on my way here to apologize and ask you to be mine.” 

“I…” Papa cuts himself off, mouth moving without any words as he struggles to find what he wants to say. “You want to be mine? You want me to be yours? Only?” 

“Yes, Papa. Please.” He isn’t beyond begging-- a fact that strikes him in the moment and makes him feel somehow lesser. 

“I need to think about this.” Papa clears his throat as his eyes cast down to the floor. He takes a few steps backward into his chambers. As Copia goes to follow him to continue the conversation, the door swings shut. 

The silence in the hallway rings in his ears, louder than a denial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of this chapter to come.


	9. The Empress, Reverse, Part 2.

The click of the door shutting echoes in Papa’s mind long after it’s closed, and the clunk of the bolt sliding into place echoes even longer. Papa had surprised even himself with the shutting of the door. It had been his intention to invite the man in, to talk to him, to discuss the implications and the argument… and then his brain had chosen for him. A sudden welling of anxiety in his stomach yelled at him to get away, to be alone, to protect his heart. Now, he stands behind the door, his back turned, until he hears the eventual movement of Copia leaving down the hall, away from him. His steps are slow, measured… hurt. 

Papa clenches his fists at his side, screwing his eyes shut tightly as he takes slow, deep breaths. Why? Why was he like this? Everything in his body is yelling at him to throw open the door, to chase the man down the hallway and fall to his knees, to explain everything in a tone that will make him understand, that will make him love him… but he can’t. His feet won’t move, and his heartbeat pounds in his ears, muffled as if through cotton. Papa takes a deep swallow, wills his body to comply with his brain.

Finally, with another deep breath, he relaxes and his muscles lose their tension. Walking to his bedroom takes an incredible amount of effort, and his desire to lay down supersedes any other need that his body may have at the moment. With a groan and a huff he sits carefully on the edge of his bed, throwing himself backward after a moment and flinging an arm over his eyes. His lush blankets greet him happily enough, swallowing him in goose down and silks. Once again, his stomach makes a small turn when he realizes who the last person to occupy these sheets with him was. 

He rests for a few moments, his thoughts running through his head. The thought of Copia being with anyone but him at this point makes his stomach turn over-- the sudden feeling of loss that pangs at his heart takes his breath away. Terzo moves his arm away from his eyes and stares up at the canopy over his bed, a sudden fear settling in his heart. What if Copia takes his request to think as a final rejection, and starts to find another partner? What if his anxiety over the situation is currently, right now, propelling his Cardinal into the arms of another?

Terzo sits up quickly at the thought, his breaths coming fast and shaky as he considers the ramifications of his actions. Had he unintentionally pushed the man he’s begun to love into someone else’s heart? His stomach squeezes in a vice grip as his brain flashes images of Copia with another man, or even another woman. Papa swallows hard past the lump in his throat-- he can practically hear them giggling and going on about their business in his head. Was this how Copia had felt when he saw the Sister in the hallway, leaving his chambers? 

What was the advice mother always gave him when he was upset? He fights his way past the brief pain of losing her to call her words to mind, even managing to smile through his current anxiety at the thought of her kind voice and even kinder hands. Take a bath, and think about it. Everything is washed away under hot water-- sins, thoughts, troubles, and problems alike.

For the second time that week he brings the receiver of the rotary phone to his ear, quickly dialing the number for the housekeeping Ghouls. When one of them picks up with a curt greeting, he asks for towels and a newly laundered robe of his, as well as some bath salts and oils. His mother always told him to do things right, or they weren’t worth doing at all. Terzo tends to agree. 

Once the Ghouls have hung up the phone, he looks at the receiver in his hand for a moment, contemplating if he should make the next call. On one hand, he’s sure to be mocked. On the other hand, he’ll at least get some advice and possibly a laugh out of the ordeal. The internal struggle is quickly ended when his finger finds the “6” on the dial and quickly spins in the proper number. He’s in luck, and Secondo answers on the third ring. 

“Salve, His Eminence Emeritus the Second speaking.” Terzo tries and fails to stifle a snort of laughter at the formal greeting, falling easily into a comfortable tone of voice as he addresses his brother over the line,

“Ciao, Secondo.” His smile only widens when he hears his brothers sigh through the crackly phone lines.

“What do you need, Terzo? You know I’m drowning in work tonight.” He can practically hear the unsaid ‘but I’ll put it aside for you’ at the end of Secondo’s statement. Terzo would never admit it, but the love that he and his closest brother share is something that he holds onto quite dearly.

“I have a situation, fratello.” Terzo crosses one leg over the other, twirling his finger into the wire of the phone cord as he bounces his foot. “You were always so good at the coaching me, and I thought you could help.” There’s a moment of silence and a short burst of static over the line before Secondo responds in a dry tone,

“Is this about your pet Cardinal?” Secondo sighs, continuing before Terzo even has a chance to clarify himself. “I have told you time and time again, one day someone will come along and tear at your heart. The Cardinal told me of your argument, though not of the topic. I only know that it occurred. I implored him to come and seek you out, to speak to you. You and I both know that your capacity for forgiveness--”

“Is not the issue here, Secondo. He did come to apologize… at an inopportune moment. Sister Jezebel was leaving as he arrived. He assumed the worst, and… I reacted poorly to the things that he said.” Terzo gnaws at his lower lip, starting slightly when he hears his door unlock and swing open with the entry of the housekeeping Ghouls. 

“Did he assume correctly?” Secondo asks flatly, disapproval thick in his voice. 

“Si,” Terzo practically whispers in return, hot shame creeping its way up his neck and into his cheeks. When the housekeeping Ghoul looks to him, he’s grateful for the papal paint. He nods in dismissal towards the Ghoul, who quickly bows and exits, leaving the tray of requested soaps and the robe on the table in his bedroom. “I did not think--”

“You never think. That’s the issue here, fratello. How many times have I dug you out of a situation?” On the other end of the line, Secondo’s irritation is becoming apparent; Terzo can hear his pen tapping.

“A fair few.” Terzo’s own tone is becoming clipped with annoyance as he lifts his phone and proceeds to the bathroom, setting it down on a small marble table near the tub as he fiddles with the knobs. 

“Running a bath, then?” Secondo asks as he hears the water turn on, gushing into the large claw footed tub. The water heats easily as Terzo hums a ‘yes’ and plugs the tub, allowing the water to deepen as steam envelopes him. As Secondo continues talking, he drops some of the salts and oils into the water, breathing deeply as the scent of roses enfolds him. It always reminds him of his mother, and the scent is more comforting than anything else at the moment. “It’s been more than a few times. You are quick to self isolate, Alessandro, and I have told you--”

“As I have told you not to call me that,” Terzo replies, cutting his brother off quickly with a sharpened tone. He bristles slightly, huffing a sigh as Secondo does the same. 

“Yes, fine. But you are quick to turn away in hurt, and you don’t need to. Think what I told you when we were younger, and you had a crush on that one Sister… what was her name?” Secondo drifts off until Terzo responds begrudgingly,

“Noel.”

“That was it. Sister Noel… the beauty with the Christian name. Remember the advice I gave you when you thought you loved her?” He pauses, giving Terzo a moment. “If you still love them in the aftermath of--”

“Si, si, just… stop talking. I know.” Terzo pulls the phone away from his ear as his brother laughs loudly, smiling slightly himself. The laughter drifts into a comfortable silence for a moment before Secondo speaks again. 

“You know what your heart wants better than any, eh? In the meantime, you need to keep your head down. You don’t know what Imperator knows and what she doesn’t, and it would behoove you to be a little less reckless. You’ll get us all killed.”

“Sure,” Terzo snorts, “she’ll get us all at the weekly card game. I know what I’m doing. Besides, she’s out on Clergy business for the next two days. Father sent her to pick up a new Sibling recruit, apparently.” He waits a second before quietly adding, “but thank you”, and hanging up the phone. It takes him a moment of looking at the steaming water before he moves again, sliding his already low-hanging pajamas off of his hips and stepping into the water.

Papa hisses a bit at the temperature of the water, easing down into it and finally settling himself against the rim of the over-large tub. He leans back and crosses his ankles under the water, running his hands just under the surface as he thinks. The steam and smell of roses clears his mind briefly, and the feeling of his muscles relaxing under the hot water is enough to bring a moan of pleasure to his lips as he slides farther under the water. 

As his head rests against the lip of the tub, his eyes trace the patterns of Copia’s face against the black ceiling of his bathroom. His eyes drift shut as he pictures him, his shy smile and quick to redden features; something about the Cardinal is endearing to him, and his own cheeks pinken as he thinks about him. Soon enough his mind turns to the night spent in Copia’s bed together, and the sounds that he pulled from him as his hand traveled down his chest… 

In the warm water, Papa’s hand mimics the trail it made on Copia, sliding down his chest towards his pelvis, dipping around his navel and carding through the line of hair above his cock. It’s almost a shock to him when his hand bumps his cock, already hardening to full thickness from the thoughts running through his mind. No longer doubting himself or his desires, he grips his cock in his fist. Papa brings one leg up and rests it against the wall of the tub as he strokes his cock slowly, his hips shifting slightly in the water. 

He bites his lip as his thumb rolls across the head of his cock, his other hand already tracing its way towards his chest. Were it not for the water covering his cock, he’s sure he would be leaking pre-cum. Papa, losing himself in the sensations quickly, buries his hand in his hair and tugs hard, letting out a sharp moan as he jerks himself at the same time, squeezing himself hard in his fist. What he wouldn’t give to have the Cardinal with him, jerking him roughly over his face. Nearing his edge already, he stops, moving instead to cradle and roll his balls, teeth worrying his lower lip as his chest heaves. 

With a whisper of his lover’s name, his finger slips lower, caressing his hole just gently before bringing his hand back up to grip his cock once more. He squeezes his eyes shut as he envisions Copia’s hand there instead, the Cardinal on his knees in front of him in reverence. Papa can practically feel it as the man’s tongue flicks out to lick at the head of his cock, and his hips thrust forward into an open mouth that isn’t there. 

Instead, he grips his hair tighter, yanking his head back with a loud moan that echoes throughout the marble bathroom as his hand speeds up on his cock. Soft, broken litanies of pleading Italian fall from his lips as he nears his orgasm once more. Once more, he pulls his hand away from himself, gasping and shaking in the water as he comes down from his brief high. A sated hum rumbles from his throat as he drags a hand across his face, smearing and partially removing his left over face paint. His hand stops at his lips, where he wraps a tongue around his index and middle finger, taking them into his mouth as he would a cock. His cock twitches as he takes himself in hand again, bringing himself back to the edge of pleasure quickly. 

“Sathanas, Cardinale… Cardinale per favore,” he chants to himself around his fingers quietly as he finally allows himself to break over the edge of his orgasm, cumming hard with a broken and shuddering moan. Papa grips the side of the tub in one hand as he comes down, breathing heavily and whispering Copia’s name once more. Finally, as the fog of his arousal fades, he’s left with one thought:

He loves the Cardinal.

His heart warms slightly at the thought before being replaced with cold anxiety and fear over the revelation. He’d practically just thrown the man out of his room earlier and slammed the door in his face-- how is he supposed to face him and tell him that he’d come to his senses and was sorry?

Perhaps just like that.

With renewed dedication, Papa pulls the plug from the drain of his bathtub and stands, easing his way out of the swirling water to grab a large towel. He takes a moment to remove the last of his ruined face paint, intending to put it back on before he leaves to see Copia. Dry enough for his satisfaction, he takes the satin robe that the Ghoul had brought, slipping it on and tying it off quickly. Vanity creeping in once more, he takes a look in the mirror and artfully arranges the bathrobe to slide off of his shoulder just enough to reveal his chest. 

As soon as Papa steps foot out of his bathroom and into his chambers, there’s a loud banging at the door. The brief thought that it may be Copia flashes through his mind and he has to control himself in his quickened pace to the door. Before opening the door he takes a moment to readjust his robe once more, baring a little more skin just in case. Upon swinging open the door, however, he’s faced with one of Copia’s Ghouls. A better outcome than it could have been, but not the person he was hoping for. 

“Eh… Which one are you?” Papa ducks his head, attempting to see the Ghoul’s tail for an element indicator. 

“Dew,” the Ghoul answers him quickly, shoving his way into the room without Papa’s invitation. Papa splutters and turns after him, arms akimbo at the indignation of the Fire Ghoul. “Boss told you why I’m here, yeah? I saw him walkin’ away from this direction, so I know he was here at least. Hey, I can see ya without the goop on your face, right?”

“He was here, and yes,” Papa snaps back, shutting the door a little harder than was necessary and folding his arms over his chest with a disgruntled huff. 

“Cool, so what’s the plan?” Dew looks around the sitting room before picking a chair, sitting in it heavily and throwing his legs over the arm. He holds his hand up, inspecting his nails as he waits for Papa’s answer. 

“For what?” Papa shakes his head, moving forward into the room and stopping in front of Dew. “I don’t know what your Cardinal told you, but I’m busy today.” He waves in the direction of the door. “Whenever you can…”

“Mm, yeah, he mentioned somethin’ about you being busy. Seemed kinda pissed, so you might wanna fix that. Anyway.” Papa balls his fists at his side, trying valiantly to control his anger at the insubordinate Ghoul. “Boss told me he offered my help with the feral Ghouls in the dens. At first I was offended that he offered me up without my agreeing but, like, I kinda dig the idea, y’know?” 

“No. Enlighten me.” Papa unclenches his hands, taking a deep and steadying breath as he moves to the chair beside the Ghoul, sitting down and fixing his robe to cover himself. Dew takes note, tossing a wink at him. 

“You can keep your robe open, Papa, I’m no stranger to the male form.” Papa rolls his eyes and opens his mouth to speak before Dew continues. “Listen, that Ghoul fucked up my friend. I want to help you.” He straightens in his seat, looking at Papa fully. “That kind of thing doesn’t stand where I come from. Those Ghouls need to be taken care of, and I want to help you. To make sure that no one else is hurt who doesn’t need to be.” 

“I don’t think--”

“Look, you’ve gotten hurt, right?” Papa’s mouth snaps shut. “Yeah. I’ve seen blood down in those tunnels, and it don’t smell like Ghoul blood. I’m faster than you. I’m stronger. It’s safer for you to let me help you than it is for you to continue on your own.”

“You--”

“Make good points and you know it as well as I do, boss man.” Dew leans his arm heavily on the arm of the chair, tilting his head towards Papa. “We got a deal, or what?” 

“I suppose. A tentative deal, Ghoul.”

“Dew.”

“Dew, then. Very well. But if you cut me off when I’m speaking again, I will have you seen to, si? I am still Papa.” 

“Feh,” Dew says, flapping his wrist noncommittally as he gets up to leave. “Nothin’ scares me more than gettin’ sent back to the pit, and that’s not happening as long as you and I are workin’ together. Oh, and put that paint back on, yeah? Ya look too different.” He reaches for the door, swinging it open easily and giving Papa a sassy salute as he leaves.

Just as Papa rises to go shut the door that Dew left open, another Ghoul skids into the room holding a letter. He’s breathing heavily and is holding another letter, clearly eager to deliver this one and leave. This Ghoul is clearly under contract with his Father-- a fact that makes the Third raise a skeptical eyebrow. What would his Father be doing summoning him at this time? Or at all. 

The Ghoul moves forward, forcefully handing Papa the missive and practically sprinting from the room afterwards in the direction of Secondo’s offices. Papa frowns as he looks down at the paper; it’s hastily signed with his Father’s name and the wax isn’t present. When he slides it open, he sees why: the letter only contains two lines and another hasty signature.

A,

Sister in accident, hospitalized. Inform CC.

N.

Papa wastes no time in sliding into his slippers, pocketing the letter hastily in the lining of his robe as he shuffles quickly to his door. He swings it shut behind him, not bothering to lock it as he usually would. Instead, he sets off at a steady (albeit shuffling) pace towards the Cardinal’s chambers, one hallway down from his. No Siblings were allowed unaccompanied, and the chance of him being seen without the papal paint by anyone but Ghouls or Copia is low. 

He arrives outside of Copia’s door and stands motionless for a moment, his heart pounding as he considers the implication of knocking. Papa takes one deep, steeling breath and raises his hand, knocking heavily on the wooden door. No turning back, if the Cardinal answers. By the huffing and rustling movements behind the door, it’s evident that he’s home. The door swings open easily as Copia pokes his head out, his face falling when he sees who it is, before quickly reddening. The Cardinal spins around, facing the inside of his chambers hurriedly.

“Ai! No paint, Papa! I cannot--”

“This is more important than stupid Clergy rules that my Father set, Cardinale. Let me in.” Papa’s tone is huffy, even though he knows he has no right to be. He watches as Copia’s shoulders fall slightly as he realizes what’s being asked of him, but he still doesn’t turn around. Terzo softens his voice, bringing a hand to Copia’s shoulder, who promptly shrugs him off. “Copia… I need to speak with you, per favore. This isn’t related to our…. Us.”

A quiet moment passes before Copia nods sharply, walking into his chambers and allowing Papa to follow, gesturing for him to shut the door as he enters. Papa does so, shutting the door as quietly as possible before moving into the room after Copia. He goes to take a seat at one of the plush chairs and promptly changes his mind, standing stock still in the entry-way. 

“Well?” Copia prompts, finally looking at Papa as he leans against his desk, hands splayed on the wood beside him and ankles crossed. Papa holds up a finger and digs in the lining of his robe, pulling out the letter and holding it out towards Copia, who takes it quickly, scanning the short sentence three times over. He watches as Copia’s face takes on a gamut of emotions: shock, confusion, and hurt before finally settling on sadness. 

“Do you want me to take you to see her? I know you’re close to the Sister. My Father seems to have already left.” Papa moves forward to offer a consoling hug, but thinks better of it and hangs back, waiting to see Copia’s reaction. The Cardinal clears his throat sharply and offers the letter back to Papa. 

“Hospital does not mean dead. If your Father indicates that things are more serious… then yes, I would like a ride. Thank you, Papa. Is this all?” Copia’s eyes are trained on the floor, dutifully looking away from Papa’s face.

“I was hoping we could talk,” Papa offers quietly. Copia huffs a short laugh through his nose, folding his arms in front of himself and finally making eye contact with Papa.

“Had time to think, have you?” He grimaces as his shoulders fall slightly. “I’m sorry. That was rude of me.”

“It was exactly what I would have said, Cardinale. I was eh… come si dice? Sharp?” Papa rubs the back of his head in an awkward motion, smiling in obvious embarrassment. 

“You were an asshole,” Copia states flatly. Papa nods in agreement, folding his arms over his chest protectively as he continues, 

“I came here to apologize, Copia.” At the use of his name, his eyes snap up to Papa’s once more. He squints slightly, waiting for Papa to continue speaking. “I am sorry… that I… eh… hurt you.” Copia shakes his head in wonderment, the sketchings of a smile on his face.

“You are terrible at this, wow.” He laughs slightly, watching Papa struggle.

“I am trying! Papa’s don't have to apologize,” he grumbles. Another deep breath and he’s ready to try again-- this time, with his own eyes closed. “I am sorry that I hurt you, and I wish to accept your proposal.” He cracks one eye open to look at Copia, feeling suddenly naked as he feels his face heat without the paint to cover the growing redness of embarrassment. Copia’s lips are pursed as he tries to hide a smile before giving up, smiling and holding a hand out towards Papa who gratefully takes it with a loud exhalation. 

Copia pulls him into a hug, leaning his head against Papa’s chest and laughing when he feels his skin through the thin silk robe. Papa lays his cheek comfortably on the crown of Copia’s head, his arms tightening around the smaller man briefly as he squeezes his eyes closed. They stay like that for a moment, the words left unsaid between them no longer feeling as daunting in the small space. Copia is the first one to break the comfortable silence.

“Did you wear this robe on purpose?” he asks timidly. Papa breaks out into a loud laugh, his shoulders bouncing with it as he pulls Copia from him slightly by the shoulders.

“No, Cardinale! I swear!” he laughs, a grin splitting his face. Copia shakes his head in admonishment before Papa’s hand comes up, taking Copia’s chin between his thumb and forefinger. The laughter fades as Papa’s eyes flick between Copia’s lips and eyes. “So we are… coupled? Si?” 

“Si,” Copia breathes out, his voice barely above a whisper. His breathing quickens as Papa closes the small space between them, pressing their lips together into a soft and timid kiss. It’s over almost as soon as it began, as they both break the kiss before it deepens into something more. Copia closes his eyes in contentment before bringing his hand up and patting Papa’s cheek. “Now please, Terzo, go put your face paint on. You don’t look like my Papa without it.”

“Ah, Cardinale. If things go my way, you’ll see your Papa without it even more, si?” He tosses a quick wink as Copia ducks his head, flushing furiously. Even still, he pulls out of Copia’s arms and moves towards the door of his office before stopping and turning back. “Your Ghoul eh, Dew? He visited me earlier. We’re going to work together. I suppose he and I are coupled as well!”

“No that’s…” Copia sighs, putting his fingers to his forehead as he smiles behind his hand. “Sure,” he laughs quietly, waving his hand towards Papa. “I’ll catch up with you later; I’ve got some paperwork to do. Go meet with Dew, I suppose.” Papa nods and swings the door open, pausing for a moment with his hand on the door frame before he turns back to Copia.

“I’ll see you tonight, then?” 

“Tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come yell at me @gasolineghuleh on Tumblr!


	10. The Lovers.

It’s only a few hours later that Copia startles from a knock at his door, cursing slightly as his signature on a piece of paperwork skids across the parchment and marks his desk. He calls out for the person to let themselves in, tsking to himself as he rubs his thumb across the mark, watching as it transfers to his glove and off of the oak. Copia scoots back from his desk slightly and unzips his glove, tossing it to the table top. Looking up, he smiles warmly at Papa as the man practically flings himself into the chair across from Copia’s desk. 

“Comfortable?” he chides, greeting Papa with a warm smile. It’s been only a few hours since they parted, but he already felt his absence keenly. Having Papa around him was like sitting in a room with a comfortable fire-- you know it’s there, and you know it’s responsible for much of your comfort.

“Si, si, as comfortable as these chairs can be. Father buys me a new car like it is nothing, but the chairs? No, I must suffer.” Papa tilts a half smile towards Copia, feeling a small flush of pride as the other man ducks his head, a blush already forming on his cheeks. “So coy already, Cardinale?”

“It’s the eh… the paint.” Copia flutters a hand towards Papa, studiously looking back down towards his smudged paperwork. He continues talking to the desk as he reaches into a drawer of his desk, pulling out a new sheaf of clean parchment and beginning to transfer the words. “I know what’s underneath it, and I can picture you… clearly. Doing…”

“Ahh,” Papa sighs knowingly, crossing one leg over the other and leaning comfortably on the arm of the chair, his posture nonchalant. “You are thinking of how I will look when I cum for you… again. Si?” He leans forward, trying to catch Copia’s eye. When he finally does, Copia’s lips twist into a begrudging smile while Papa laughs heartily, bouncing his foot across his knee. 

“Yes, well, it’s not as if you aren’t thinking it as well,” Copia retorts with his own soft laugh. Papa merely spreads his hands, cocksure smile still firmly in place. 

“I am always thinking it, Cardinale. The way you came apart at my touch… such a good thing to think about.” Papa trails off in mock thought before clearing his throat and turning back to the Cardinal. “It seems as though we are free for the evening, si? We have no plans, then?” Copia wags his finger with a frown, turning it towards the large stack of books.

“No, we most certainly do. We still have the text translations for Sister. I know she’s infirm right now, but that doesn’t excuse me from what she's asked me to do for her… or punished me with.” Copia sighs and runs his bare hand through his hair before unzipping his other glove, tossing that aside too. He reaches for the largest book on top of the stack as Papa sits forward quickly and slams his own hand down on it, stopping Copia’s movement. 

“I’ll take this one, Cardinale. It’s the biggest, and I owe you after my storm off, hm? Besides, we know I like the big things.” He slowly tugs the book towards him until Copia relents with a sigh and a soft smile. Papa takes the book and stands, picking up another one for good measure before moving towards the small seating area on the far side of the Cardinal’s chambers. “I think we get comfortable while we work… No need to be sitting in chairs or at desks to read books!” he calls back over his shoulder. 

Copia laughs to himself, exasperated and slightly in awe of the man’s perpetual energy. He takes his own books and writing supplies, following Papa over to the sitting area and setting the supplies down on the small table in between the couches. When he gestures towards the drink cart, eyebrow raised in a silent offer, Papa nods in acceptance. Copia takes out two matching glasses, pouring some red wine into each and setting one of them on the table. While he waits, Papa stands in front of the fireplace for a moment, studying the empty hearth before removing his own gloves and tucking them into his coat pocket. As he crouches down, adding a few logs to the grate he says,

“May as well be comfortable on a first date, eh?” He turns sharply when he hears Copia splutter on his wine, his eyebrows shooting up towards his hairline. Copia presses the side of his hand to his lips, catching the stray wine that he choked on, his face turning a flushed shade of pink as Papa watches. “Are you alright?”

“I didn’t… eh… I didn’t think you would consider something like this a date, Papa,” Copia explains, fidgeting with the stem of his wine glass as he takes a seat on the couch. Papa huffs a sigh and turns back to the fireplace, producing a lighter from his pocket and using some loose sheets of paper to properly light the fire. 

“Of course. Any time I spend with you in close company.” Papa pokes at the fire carefully until it’s lit and crackling comfortably before moving back and sitting on the floor, leaning his back against the couch. “Ahh, hand me that book next to you, per favore. I need the lexicon for this one, if I remember.” Copia hands him the book wordlessly, also leaning forward to get his wine and pass that off to him as well. Papa mumbles a thank you as he takes a sip and opens the book, balancing it on his knee. 

“You know you don’t have to help me with these right, Papa?” Copia says quietly after a few moments’ silence has passed. Below him, Papa’s pen stops scratching across the paper.

“It’s Terzo.” Papa turns his head to look at Copia, his white eye piercing in its sudden seriousness. “I am helping you because you are my partner. It’s my understanding that we do these hardships together, hm? I admit, I am not the best at these things but… For you, I try.” Copia’s hand comes down to rest lightly on Papa’s head, tucking a loose lock of hair back behind his ear. 

“Have you always known?” he asks quietly. In his left hand, he twiddles the pen between his fingers nervously as he waits for Papa to answer. Papa appears to grow pensive as he thinks, some secret memory playing in the movie screen of his mind. “You don’t have to--”

“Yes,” Papa says finally, cutting him off. “I’ve known always. I was with a girl, and I thought that was grand and then I was with a man and… that was grand, too.” Papa tosses Copia a teasing wink before he continues. “And then I was with Ghouls, and Ghoulettes, and demons, and priests--”

“Okay, okay, Terzo.” Copia laughs slightly as Papa pretends to tick things off on his fingers, rolling his eyes down towards him. Papa gives a chuckle of his own as he leans more into Copia’s leg, finally returning the question to him. “I’ve always known… I never got to act on it until I was in seminary.” He stops as Papa gives a sharp laugh, rolling his head on the couch cushion to look up at Copia between his long lashes. 

“You Catholics! Always the worst of the lot,” he says in a knowing tone, shaking a finger at Copia. After a moment he adds, “I’ve had many Fathers call me daddy after a time, you know.” He bounces his eyebrows lewdly towards the Cardinal, who dutifully ignores it. 

“Yes, well. I’d argue I’m considerably worse now, and I’m not Catholic anymore,” Copia mumbles, turning his head back towards his own book as he continues the slow translation. Papa continues to shake with quiet laughter as he does the same, taking another small sip of his wine. 

“This wine is good, Cardinale. When is it from?” he asks, smelling the wine delicately as he swirls it in the glass. He holds the glass up to his eye level, looking through the maroon liquid curiously before taking another, larger, sip. 

“If I have to call you Terzo, you have to call me Copia. Fair is fair.” Papa waves his hand impatiently as Copia continues. “1880. Veneto. It was a gift from your Father, now that I think about it. He gave it to me when I made it to Cardinal,” he says. Papa hums his interest as he takes another sip. 

“Good year. Father usually knows my tastes well… He must have known I’d be here at some point,” Papa laughs dryly. 

“Very good year indeed, I remember it fondly,” Copia mutters almost to himself as he continues in the text. The statement goes unnoticed by Papa, who’s already done the same. For a few moments the only sounds in the sitting room are the comfortably crackling fire and the scratching of their pens across the parchments. Every so often, one of them turns a page or takes a sip from their wine. It’s comfortable, calming, and serves only to lull the both of them into a sort of peace. Outside, a soft rain begins to fall against the windows, pattering on the panes of glass. 

“The fire is nice,” Papa finally comments, breaking the silence as he watches the flames eat through the thick logs that he’s fed it with. They’re glowing a bright amber as large pieces blacken and crumble into ash. Copia makes a sound of agreement as his own eyes turn to the flames as well. After a moment, Papa leans forward away from the couch and unbuttons his suit coat, discarding it onto the table in front of him carefully as he rolls his sleeves up to the elbow. 

“Warm?” Copia asks nonchalantly, considering doing the same with his own coat. Papa shakes his head as he unbuttons the top two buttons of his soft lilac shirt, turning his head towards Copia as he says,

“Just getting more comfortable. It seems as though we’ll be working for a while. Lots of text, hm?” Papa sighs contentedly as he leans back against the couch once more, his shoulder resting more heavily against Copia’s leg as he turns back to the text. Copia takes a moment to undo his own suit coat, laying it carefully across the arm of the couch beside him before picking up his pen once more. “Are you warm, Cardinale?” Papa asks him softly from his spot on the floor. 

“Not at all, Papa. Just getting comfortable, as you said. We’ll be here for a while,” Copia returns, the sly smile on his face evident in his voice.

“It’s Terzo.”

“It’s Copia.”

“Fair enough,” Papa laughs, balling up one of his pieces of parchment and tossing it into the fire. He pulls another sheaf towards him and continues where he left off, eyes flicking back and forth between the pages. Another moment passes in which the rain begins to fall heavier outside before Papa finally says, “How long do you usually spend doing these translations before you get bored, hm?” 

“Hours. Why?” Copia watches as Papa picks up his wine glass and downs the rest of it, taking his time swallowing before rolling his head along the couch cushions to regard his partner. His tongue traces the line of his upper lip before he finally speaks.

“Because I am bored, caro.” His eyes are warm and soft, plied slightly by the alcohol and the warm fire, and Copia feels his heart jump in his chest in response. Papa turns on the floor, leaning against the couch on his side with one arm propping his head up on the cushion. His other arm comes up slowly, with purpose, to rest on Copia’s upper thigh. Copia turns his gaze towards him as his legs part slightly in reflex.

“What do you propose I do, Terzo?” Copia asks shyly. “It’s not as if I can make you any less bored than the texts are already doing.” He swallows audibly as Papa’s fingers trail up his thigh. A log pops in the fireplace and he jumps sharply, while Papa manages to maintain his composure, his eyes darkening in his growing arousal. 

“Perhaps I could show you something that is more entertaining than these stuffy textbooks… Sister Imperator would never have to know that we’re slacking off on them, si?” He presses an open mouthed kiss to the cloth of Copia’s pants, leaving the smaller man almost trembling at the heat from his mouth. His hand climbs higher on his leg as his voice drops a register, sending shivers through Copia’s body. “Let me show you how to have fun, mm?”

“Shit,” Copia sighs and drops his head back against the couch, his hips shifting upward as Papa’s hands roam a little higher. “Terzo…” 

“Tell me if you don’t want this, si?” Papa all but whispers, moving forward slowly until he’s situated between Copia’s legs, his hands still running along his thighs. With one hand he takes Copia’s book gently, moving it to the couch cushion beside the Cardinal. “You want this?” Papa presses kisses to his thighs, moving farther upward until he’s at the apex of them, where he pauses. 

“For Lucifer’s sake, yes, Terzo,” Copia breathes out, bringing his hands to his face and dragging them, exasperation tinging his voice as his hips move upward once more. Papa chuckles to himself at the smaller man’s desperation as he finally allows one hand to skate over the growing bulge in Copia’s pants, just lightly gripping him before moving away once more. Copia’s jaw drops open at the sensation, prompting Papa to return his hand to him again as he situates himself on his knees.

“You like when your Papa touches you like this?” he asks, laying his cheek gently on Copia’s thigh, continuing to stroke him softly through his pants. It’s all Copia can do to whimper out an affirmative, watching Papa through his own hooded eyes. “Will you let me taste you, Cardinale? I’ve dreamt of it since you brought me breakfast… I wanted my lips around your cock instead of those damned fruits.” 

Copia swallows hard and nods his permission to Papa, watching as his hands move slowly towards the waist of his pants, unpopping the button and pulling down the zipper. They both groan as Papa’s hand closes around Copia’s cock, giving him a swift stroke before finally pulling him free of his pants. He lifts his eyes to Copia’s as he presses the flat of his tongue to the underside of his cock, licking a long stripe before pulling back and licking his own lips. 

“You’re bigger than I thought you would be, even through those ridiculous pants. But are you sure about this? You want me to take you into my mouth? Taste you? Swallow you down?” Papa’s own hips are moving slightly, thrusting forward into nothing as he continues teasing the Cardinal. Copia nods frantically as he moves his hips, attempting to capture Papa’s mouth with his cock once more. “Say it, Copia.” Copia ducks his head slightly, his face blushing fast and hard.

“Please… oh, please… God, Terzo, just touch me, please. I need to feel your mouth around my cock… thought about since the first time I had you over top of me,” Copia babbles, his breath coming in short bursts as Papa strokes him slowly, squeezing his cock at the base. Papa flicks his tongue out, kitten licking just under the head of his cock as Copia jolts on the couch, a long drawn out groan falling from his lips. “Please, please, please, do that again… exactly what you just did, do that again…”

“Oh, mio dolce, we have time to explore each other now, mm? We are not pressing the hurried kisses to each other with a sleeping Ghoul in the next room.” Papa presses a wet kiss to the underside of Copia’s cock before licking up and finally taking the head into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it quickly before pulling back off with a pop. Copia groans at the loss of sensation, finally bringing a hand to Papa’s head. He twines his fingers into his hair lightly, pushing his head just briefly towards his cock.

“Sorry, I--”

“No, caro, it’s--”

“Can I--”

“Please,” Papa practically growls. A wanton moan slips through his lips as Copia’s fingers tighten in his hair and he pulls him back to his cock. The head of his cock bumps against Papa’s lips before he opens them and sucks him into his mouth, Copia’s hand pressing him down gently. He moans and keens around Copia’s cock as the smaller man moves him, grip almost painfully tight in his hair. Copia finally pulls him back and off of him with a shuddering gasp, screwing his eyes shut momentarily. 

“Don’t… don’t want this to end just yet,” he says. With a nod, Papa moves his own hands to his shirt, unbuttoning it quickly and dropping the fine cloth to the floor behind him. Papa licks his lips as he brings one hand down his chest, dipping beneath the waistline of his pants to rub against his cock through the thin fabric of his boxers. He grips himself loosely, palm skating across the head of his cock as he finally lets loose a loud moan, his hips shifting more and more with the increased stimulation. 

“Love the way you feel in my mouth, caro… Knew you would feel so good. Take me, Copia… Use this mouth, si?” Papa drops his mouth open as his eyes slide shut in pleasure, his hand moving faster on himself as he waits for Copia to take control of him again. Papa is practically gyrating on the floor, keeping his hand mostly still while his hips do all of the work. Copia can’t help but think to himself that it looks like Papa is riding an invisible cock, and the idea makes his cock pulse, the need to take control of the man rearing its head. When he finally does, it’s with a tight grip to his hair as his other hand cups his cheek, thumb pressing at his jaw line and holding him open. 

Both men groan in unison as Copia slides his cock into Papa’s mouth, marveling at how easily he takes him into his throat. Papa swallows around him, his eyes watering only slightly at the intrusion. When Copia presses him down until his nose bumps into the thicket of pubic hair there, he lathes out his tongue across his balls. Copia jumps in sudden pleasure, pulling back when Papa gags briefly. Instead of pulling off, however, Papa swallows him down once more, wide eyes blinking up at Copia as he does so. Above him, the man is clearly falling apart-- his chest is heaving with deep breaths as his head drops heavily to the back of the couch, mouth falling open as he gasps and pants. The sounds from Papa’s mouth are absolutely filthy, loud sucking noises mixed with the obvious sloppy sounds of his own spit.

“I’m-- Terzo, I’m--” Copia groans, deep in his throat as he cums, hips thrusting shallowly with each shot. Papa swallows around him easily, his eyes fluttering shut as he cums around his fist, his own hips mirroring the thrusting of Copia’s. When Copia whimpers softly, Papa pulls back and off of him, continuing to lick the head of his cock for any stray drops of cum that came afterward. 

“Fuck…” Copia says softly, running a hand through his hair as he sits up to look down at his partner. “Do you need me to--”

“No, caro.” Papa presses another kiss to Copia’s cock before tucking him back into his pants for him, groaning as he stands back up. “It would seem that I need to borrow some pajamas, however,” he says, his own face heating slightly under the smeared remains of his papal paint. It hadn’t been his intention to cum that way, but something about finally tasting his Cardinal left him more than a little overwhelmed. 

“Right, right.” Copia stands quickly, ducking around Papa as he moves to his bedroom. Once there, he takes a moment to splash his face with some cold water as he looks at himself in the mirror. After he pats himself dry and manages to steady his shaking hands, he peels off his own suit pants, now slightly sticky with his own pre-cum and Papa’s spit, and pulls on a pair of rat themed pajama pants. As an afterthought, he sheds his shirt as well and dons a plain grey t-shirt. He finds a suitable pair of pants for Papa, as well as a matching shirt and continues back into the sitting room.

“Well you look comfortable,” Papa comments dryly, standing before the fire with a slightly dour expression as he holds his pants away from himself. Copia giggles softly as he hands over the small bundle of clothing, opening his mouth to tell him to use his bedroom to change. Instead, Papa pulls the shirt on quickly and divests himself of the pants and boxers, kicking them into a small pile beside him. 

“Ai!” Copia turns his head quickly, only just barely getting a glimpse of Papa’s semi hard cock before he closes his eyes. When he turns back, Papa already has the pajama bottoms pulled on and is looking at them with a mixed expression of confusion and bemusement. 

“You’ve had my cock pressed against your ass, Cardinale. I think it’s okay if you see it once or twice,” he laughs, gesturing to the pants as he continues, “How did you know I liked cats? Did Secondo tell you?”

“No, no. They’re just my only other clean pair,” Copia responds, laughing slightly as he looks down at his own. “If it’s any consolation, mine are rats.” 

“Don’t you like rats, though?” Papa arches an eyebrow at Copia as he folds his arms over his chest.

“That’s besides the point,” Copia mumbles, waving off the comment as he moves back to the couch and picks his book back up. He settles back onto the couch with a contented sigh, crossing one leg over the other and carefully balancing his book on his knee, the translation lexicon on the cushion beside him. 

“Would you like me to call a Ghoul for dinner?” Papa asks as he sits in front of the fire, content for the moment to watch the small blaze before moving back to the book. Every so often his fingers find a stray thread on the shirt that Copia has given him, and it takes every fibre of his being not to pull at them.

“Mmm, what time is it?” Copia looks up to the large oaken clock on the mantle of the fireplace before crinkling his nose. “Already past dinner time. I don’t think the kitchen Ghouls are working this late.” 

“They always work for me, caro. What do you want? Pasta? Oysters? More wine?” Papa rises from his place by the fire and sits heavily on the couch cushion farthest from Copia, swinging his legs up on the coffee table in front of him. “We’re not going out in pajamas. The scandal that the Siblings would spread,” he laughs.

“I’m sure most of the Clergy has seen your pajamas and more, Papa.” Papa waves a hand dismissively, but a smile tilts the corners of his lips upward as he laughs quietly. It was true, and they both knew it. Copia stands once more, putting his hands to the small of his back as he groans, twisting from side to side. He moves over to the door and slides some rat themed slippers onto his feet.

“You are leaving?” Papa asks, leaning forward on the couch and turning to watch the Cardinal. 

“I have some leftovers in the fridge. I’ll bring them back,” Copia explains. He takes a bathrobe off of the coat stand, shrugging it on and tying it loosely around his waist. Papa moves over to him, fussing with the twister collar of the robe as he speaks.

“You are bringing me your cooking? Does this count as you cooking for me then, caro?” When Copia blushes slightly and goes to duck his head, Papa puts a finger under his chin and tilts his head upward. “I think this is cute.” 

“I don’t know if it counts as--”

“Ah, ah. I am counting it.” Papa puts his hand on Copia’s cheek as he leans in, pressing the ghost of a kiss to his lips. The instant that their lips touch, Copia’s eyes slide shut and he sways into Papa, bringing a hand to his hip on reflex. All too soon Papa ends the kiss, pulling back softly to see Copia standing still, his lips slightly parted and eyes still closed. Papa runs his thumb over Copia’s lower lip commenting, “I don’t want to get the paint on you, si?” 

“Mm, yes. The paint. Right.” Copia blinks blearily, his gaze falling quickly to Papa’s lips, only half painted now. Somewhere in the back of his mind he’s aware that the missing paint is most likely around his cock, something that makes it give an interested twitch in his pants. He spins away quickly towards the door, saying over his shoulder, “Is pasta okay with you?”

“It’s perfect, caro. I would gladly take anything you give me,” Papa practically purrs. He leans against Copia’s desk, watching as he leaves. With an awkward chuckle from the Cardinal and the soft click of the door, he’s alone in the room. It occurs to him after a moment that he’s never been alone in the Cardinal’s chambers before. His eyes slide over to the trunk in the corner of the room that holds, no doubt, Copia’s personal belongings. He shakes himself free of the notion quickly, however, instead moving into Copia’s bedroom and adjoining bathroom.

He relieves himself quickly and washes his hand in the fastidiously clean sink, noting with a bemused smile that the Cardinal prefers lavender scented hand soap. Papa takes a small washrag to dry his hands and, on an afterthought, douses the rag in water and uses it to remove the ruins of his papal paint. It was streaked and ruined around his lips, and had evident sweat tracks down the sides of his face. One small part on his cheek had been almost completely rubbed away from where he had laid his face on Copia’s leg. Papa tosses the used rag into the hamper before returning to the fire and stoking it quickly, throwing himself akimbo onto the couch once the fire is roaring once more, one arm dangling towards the floor. 

It’s not long until he feels a slight tugging at the hemline of his pajama pants, near the ankle. When he raises his head to look, he comes face to face with a large and fat white rat, sitting between his ankles and chewing happily on the cuff of the pants. Papa scrambles up into a seated position quickly, keeping his eyes trained on the white rat as he scoots back on the couch. From the corner of his eye he sees further movement, only to be confronted with another rat. This one, a large brown rat, climbs up the leg of the couch and approaches Papa with caution, whiskers and nose twitching as it smells him curiously.

Papa puts his hand out slowly and gasps in wonder when the white rat scurries over to him, climbing into the palm of his hand easily. The brown one moves to do the same, clamoring up his thigh to rest on his leg. The white rat sits up on its hind legs, nose twitching as it leans in slightly closer to Papa. Holding his breath, Papa brings up his other hand and strokes the rat's head with one finger carefully, breaking out into a grin when the rat makes happy /weeet weeet/ noises at him.

Meanwhile, Copia moves swiftly down the hall towards the kitchens, his mind racing through what different leftovers he has in the large refrigerators. He knows he has some pasta, and some previously baked bread rolls… Perhaps those would heat up just fine. Does Papa like eating cold pasta? His stomach flips as he realizes just how little he actually knows about his partner. Copia, preoccupied as he is with his thoughts, almost doesn’t notice when he slams face first into Dew as he rounds the corner. 

“Fuck, boss! You scared the shit right outta me.” Dew stumbles back a bit, rubbing his chest where Copia’s shoulder had come into contact with him. “What are you doing up this late?”

“Dew, sorry. I’m getting food for myself and a guest,” Copia says, still slightly dazed. “Is something going on?”

“Nothing I can’t handle, boss. Cirrus reckons she heard a Ghoul acting up, might be feral. We’re gonna go check it out. I figured some raw meat might draw it out of hiding. Well… Cirrus did. She’s got all the good ideas,” Dew grumbles, holding up his hand. He’s got a tub of clearly raw ground meat, mashed into a pile. Copia pulls a face before he continues. “Tell Papa I’ve got it covered for tonight.”

“Sure, sure. I’ll let him know in the morning at mass.” Copia starts to move past Dew, who sketches a quick bow as he passes before calling out,

“We all know, boss! You can tell him when you get back to your room.” Copia ducks his head, pulling his shoulders up to his ears as he walks faster. “Hey no shame! It’s a good thing!” Dew calls after him loudly. 

Copia grumbles to himself as he feels his face flush red with embarrassment, although he can’t quite trace why. It’s a consenting adult relationship, right? There’s no need for him to feel embarrassed over who he chooses to date, or invite into his private chambers. But still, flush he does. 

He shoulders open the door to the kitchens and moves past the scattered tables and chairs easily, finally swinging open the steel door that leads to the back of the house. The large stoves there are gleaming and just recently cleaned, as are the floors. A few small streaks are left over from the mop and he hops over them daintily as he approaches the largest of the refrigerators. He yanks the door open with a grunt and peers inside. 

The light inside of the fridge flicks on to reveal a variety of leftovers, sauces, drinks, and raw cooking material. Copia shoves aside a particularly vile looking mixture to find his own leftover tubs in the back of the fridge, each one labeled with a neat “C.C” on top of the lids. He pops one open and gives it a quick sniff before deeming it worthy and placing it on the steel countertop. The next tub that he pulls out has some left over alfredo pasta, and he sets that aside as well. He hip checks the fridge door shut as he carries his prizes over to the opposite counter, loading up the pockets of his robe with silverware. 

Just as he goes to leave, he spies a bread box on the counter beside the door. With a soft squeal of rather unrestrained excitement, he sets the tubs down and opens the bread box, pulling out a large covered platter of garlic knots and bread rolls. He bites into one and, finding them fresh enough, shuts the bread box and balances the platter on top of the tubs as he turns to leave, his mouth full of bread. 

Once more, just as Copia reaches the door he spins around on his heel to face the kitchen on an afterthought. He deposits the tubs onto the counter and opens the large freezer along the far wall. Humming happily to himself, he pulls out a container of frozen mini eclairs, and two half pints of ice cream that have been frozen solid for quite some time. Loading up the rest of the food in his arms, he kicks the freezer shut and turns to gather the rest of his scavenged dinner. 

Finally, food located and retrieved, he leaves the kitchen laden down with his goods and jingling with the silverware in his pocket. He briefly considers turning back for some drinks, but decides that the wine will have to suffice for now. If Papa wants a drink, he thinks, he will have to come and get it himself. He’s already bogged down like a pack mule, and a bottle of water won’t help the situation. 

Walking as slowly as he is to maintain the balance of the food tower, he makes it back to his chambers in about double the time that it took him previously when he left. Copia taps at his door lightly with his slippered foot, calling softly for Papa to open it for him. When he doesn’t answer, Copia attempts to shift the towering food pyramid to one arm, narrowly catching a falling half pint of ice cream before giving up and kicking the door again. 

“Si, si. La prego, mi dia un minuto. Cazzo…” Papa grumbles from behind the door. Copia can just barely make out some form of cooing Italian praise, said in a high pitched almost childlike tone before Papa swings the door open. “Ah! Caro, you return!” Copia almost drops everything in his hands at the sight of Papa, paintless, with one rat in his hand and the other riding comfortably on his shoulder. 

“Eh…” Copia starts, shuffling awkwardly into his own chambers as Papa walks back to the sitting room, resuming his cooing to the rats. The Cardinal follows him, slightly dumbstruck as he watches the antipope stroke the head of the rat on his hand as he makes soft kisses towards the rat on his shoulder. 

“I found friends!” he says cheerily, sitting down carefully so as to not dislodge the brown rat on his shoulder.

“Those are… my pets…” Copia explains weakly. He sets all of the food on the table before taking a deep breath. “I know pets aren’t allowed in the Abbey, I’m sorry Papa. I found them in the walls and I just--” He stops when Papa holds up his rat-free hand.

“Cardinale… Speaking as your Papa, I should be angered. Speaking as your Terzo, I am rather pleased. Pets, they give us eh… purpose. Happiness.” Papa carefully lifts the rat from his shoulder and places him on the ground, watching with a smile as he scurries away. “I have a cat of my own. She keeps me very content when I am spending the nights alone.” He lifts the white rat, still seated in the palm of his hand. “I am fond of this one. A name, perhaps?”

“Bechamel,” Copia says softly with a smile. Papa’s eyes crinkle as he smiles down at the rat, scratching under her chin before slowly depositing her on the ground as well. Bechamel quickly scurries off after the brown rat, squeaking quietly. “She’s been with me for years, now.”

“And the other one?” Papa prompts. 

“Mousse.” Copia smiles as Papa laughs at the name, shaking his head. Finally, he gestures to the food in front of them. “I picked out quite a bit, I hope some of it is to your liking.”

“I’m sure it is all good, Copia. Would you prefer to dine in the bedroom? It’s getting late, and I’ve put out the fire already.” Copia’s eyes flick to the hearth, now cold and empty. He nods and, with Papa’s help, gathers the small treasure trove of food and moves towards the bedroom. They deposit the food at the end of the large bed, climbing up onto it themselves after Copia empties his pockets of the silverware and unties his robe. Copia leans forward and grabs the two pasta tubs, popping them open.

“I have some alfredo, or some baked ziti--” Copia’s mouth snaps shut as Papa takes the alfredo quickly, grabbing a fork and digging in before Copia can even finish explaining the dishes. “Alfredo is your favourite then?” he says with a laugh, leaning back against the pillows and headboard as he digs into his meal. Papa nods, putting his hand over his mouth as he swallows a large mouthful.

“When I was younger, mama used to make alfredo when I’d had a bad day of studying. It reminds me of some good times.” Papa takes another, much smaller, bite of the pasta and closes his eyes as he chews. After swallowing he opens his eyes once more, looking at Copia with a soft expression. “This tastes like hers.” Copia swallows around the lump in his throat as his eyes fill with emotion.

“I’m glad you think so.” Copia digs his fork in his pasta for a moment before letting out a soft ‘oh!’ and leaning forward to grab the covered plate of bread. “I made these yesterday. The garlic knots will go well with the alfredo.” Papa cocks an eyebrow and takes one, looking at it for a moment before taking a small bite. He hums in appreciation and continues eating as Copia smiles broadly. 

The two continue their meal in silence for a few moments, smiling warmly at each other when they notice the other looking at them. Over the course of the meal they draw closer together, sitting practically knee to knee and cross legged on the large bed. It’s only when Copia reaches over to discard his now empty tub of pasta and grab the slowly thawing eclairs that Papa speaks again.

“Oh! So smart, Cardinale!” Papa slots his empty container inside of Copia’s neatly, clicking the lids over top of them as he sucks his fork clean. He falls neatly backward, keeping his legs crossed as he deposits the leftover containers on the table beside the bed, rocking up quickly to sit upright again as Copia watches him. 

“I feel like you could have just turned,” he mumbles around a mouthful of still half-frozen eclair. 

“Si, perhaps. But it would not have been a show, then.” Papa cracks a wide smile, taking his own mini eclair and shoving it whole into his mouth. Copia lets out a burst of laughter, quickly clapping a hand over his mouth to stifle himself. Shaking with silent laughter himself, Papa shushes Copia as he stage whispers, “It’s late! Don’t wake up the Abbey.” Copia swallows with some difficulty, fanning himself lightly as tears of restrained laughter threaten to fall.

“I got… I got ice cream too,” he manages to get out between giggles. 

“Lucifer’s sake, Copia, what did you not get? Primo would kill me if he saw how much you are letting me eat!” Papa says, popping another eclair into his mouth and looking at the two half pints of ice cream. One is mint chocolate chip while the other is some sort of triple chocolate fudge concoction. Copia quickly reaches out and grabs the chocolate one. Before Papa can protest he cuts in, saying,

“You took the alfredo, I’m taking the chocolate.” He puts the empty tray of eclairs on the table on his side of the bed, opting to turn around instead of rolling like Papa had. He sits back up and pops the lid of his ice cream carton, scooting back and leaning heavily against his headboard. After a moment, Papa does the same. They eat their respective treats in silence for a few moments before Copia finally summons the courage to pipe up, “You’re staying here tonight.” 

“I am? And who is deciding this for me, hm?” Papa sucks on his spoon, pulling it slowly out of his mouth with an exaggerated pop. He raises an eyebrow towards Copia, who flushes and ducks his head, looking rather intently into his almost empty half pint of ice cream. 

“I rather thought I would, to be quite honest. After all, I seem to remember owing you something from before.” Before he can lose his nerve, Copia sets his empty container on the night stand and swings a leg over Papa’s lap, sliding his hands up his chest and resting his weight on Papa’s thighs. 

Papa’s jaw drops open slightly as the sudden movement before he gathers himself and sets aside his own empty ice cream container, his hands coming quickly to Copia’s hips and squeezing. Copia’s tongue darts out to lick his lower lip before he leans in, pressing a tentative kiss to Papa’s. Papa sighs into the kiss, one arm wrapping gently around Copia’s lower back as he returns it, his own tongue slipping out briefly to dance with the Cardinal’s. It isn’t long before Copia can feel Papa’s cock firming beneath him, and he shifts his hips in response. 

“Mm,” Papa hums against his lips, pulling back softly to speak. “You like what you do to me, si?” Papa bucks his hips gently, watching as Copia bites his lower lip, eyes going half-lidded. “You like knowing that I am hard for you? For this body?” Papa’s hand drifts from Copia’s hips to his ass, giving it an appreciative squeeze. With a soft gasp, Copia sits up on Papa’s lap, grinding his hips down with a circular movement. His eyes slide shut as he continues to move.

“In the nightstand drawer… Lube…” he says softly. It takes a moment for the request to sink in for Papa, and by the time it does he flings his arms out to the side in excitement to wrench the drawer open. Copia huffs a laugh as he’s almost dislodged from Papa’s lap, his hands coming down quickly to Papa’s side to stabilize himself. “Love how good you feel underneath me, Terzo.” 

In response, Papa shifts his hips upward and groans as his cock rubs against Copia’s through the material of their pajama bottoms. Copia takes the lube from him, bringing a hand between them to free their cocks, hissing slightly when Papa’s bumps against his. He pops the cap of the lube with his teeth and coats his hand, drizzling some down between them before taking their cocks in hand. 

Papa twists underneath Copia just enough to get a hand between them, stroking in time with Copia as his thumb moves across the heads of their cocks. Copia gives a broken gasp, his hips thrusting in response as he grinds down on Papa. With one hand on his back, Papa urges him back down on top of him, sealing their lips together once more with a sigh of pleasure. Working in tandem this way, they both find their release quicker than expected, moaning against each other’s mouths as they cum together. It takes a moment of deep breaths before Copia sits up, eyes still closed as he sighs happily. Papa reaches into the same nightstand drawer and finds tissues, cleaning the two of them up as Copia slides off of his lap and to the side. 

Yawning and stretching, Papa clicks off the light beside him and sits up, dragging a large blanket from the end of the bed over the two of them as he rolls onto his side. He runs a hand across Copia’s chest before laying his head on his shoulder. His other arm worms its way beneath the pillows and Copia’s head as he goads the other man to roll over.

“C’mere,” he mutters sleepily. He huffs out a sigh of happiness and contentment as Copia gives in, rolling onto his side and pressing his back against Papa’s chest. Papa drops a quick kiss to the top of his head before wrapping his arm around his stomach, holding him tightly to him.

“Good night Terzo,” Copia yawns, already close to sleep.

“Mm, good night, caro,” Papa returns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yell at me on tumblr @gasolineghuleh.


	11. The Tower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back baybee!  
> Yell at me on tumblr @gasolineghuleh.

A loud knock at the door wakes both of them, and Terzo flounders for a moment in the bedsheets before falling with a thud to the floor. He lets out a disgruntled noise as the comforter falls over his face, snatching it one hand and dragging it away from him. Copia curses to himself and launches himself from the bed with a glance at his alarm clock: 6:23 AM. He rushes to his door, opening it a crack and peering beyond.

“Rain?” Terzo sits up quickly on the floor and cocks an ear, listening intently. He can only hear Copia’s side of the conversation, but it’s more than enough. “Who did? And you’re all--. Right. Go, go! We’ll join you shortly. The lobby, by the statue. No, I’ll tell him.” Copia shuts the door quickly and moves swiftly to Papa, still swathed in the blankets, extending a hand to help him up off of the floor.

“Caro... dear… You are pale.” Papa brings a hand to Copia’s cheek, his thumb stroking his cheekbone softly. “What happened? What did Rain say?”

“I… Your father.”

“Is he ill?” Papa’s eyes widen slightly before he bites his lower lip, worrying at it with his teeth. “I’ll have to call fratello… He knows--”

“Your father is fine, Terzo! He’s okay!” Copia flashes a smile at his lover, eyes apologetic. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. He’s left to be with the Sister Imperator; his plane left this morning. They had to airlift her to a better facility. Apparently some plastic surgery is necessary.” 

“Then why are you so pale? I like to see you blushing… happy… pleasured.” Papa’s tone implies all that his words aren’t saying, feline smile curving along his lips as he steps closer into Copia’s personal space. His hands drift to Copia’s hips and press him backward until he’s seated on the bed, the sheets pooling around his waist. “I cannot stand to see you so worried about-- What are you worried about?”

“Your father has asked you to take his place at the conference tomorrow. In Verona. He wants me to accompany you as a key note speaker, and try to sway the Clergy officials to give us extra funding for a tour. Apparently he thinks that I can be used as an example of what good funding can do.” Terzo hums and continues moving his hands down Copia’s chest. 

“And why does this worry you, caro? I see no problems,” he says nonchalantly, stepping into the vee of Copia’s legs and dropping his hand where he wants it.

“Ai! I-- hahn-- Terzo, I--” Copia cuts himself off with a throaty groan as Papa grips his cock and squeezes, his smile curling farther towards his ears as he watches the Cardinal fall apart at his touch. “We have to-- To pack and GOD your hand--” He cuts himself off again and slumps farther into the bed, falling back onto his hands as his hips push upward. 

“My hand what, Cardinale? My hand feels good when it’s right here?” He squeezes again and drops to his knees as Copia starts to breathe haggardly above him. “You like when I bring my hand here? What about if I--” Papa brings Copia’s cock out from his pajama bottoms and presses a wet kiss to the underside of it, dragging his tongue hotly down towards his balls. Copia jumps when his tongue lathes around one, sucking it into his mouth. 

“Yesyesyesyes,” he chants as his hands grip the bedsheets tightly, balling them up into his fists and squeezing his eyes shut. Papa chuckles around him and the vibrations do nothing but encourage his moans. He cracks open one eye to watch his lover, on his knees before him with one of his balls in his mouth, fist flying along his shaft. It almost takes him by surprise when he cums hard, his hips stuttering and jerking as he slaps a hand over his mouth. Papa works him through it, finally pulling off of him with a slurping suction sound.

“Never do that again, si? When you cum, I hear you.” Papa stands and runs his hands through Copia’s hair until he cups his head in his palms. He tilts Copia’s head up to look at him and smiles, his face bright with the lack of paint. “When you cum for me, the sounds you make belong to me… si?”

“Yes, Papa.” Copia nods between Papa’s hands, turning his head to the side and kissing his palm before moving higher and pressing another kiss to the inside of his wrist. Papa sighs in satisfaction, curling his hand along the base of Copia’s neck and massaging the tense muscle there. Copia leans forward and rests his forehead against Papa’s taut stomach, humming and sighing as Papa moves his hand.

“You say we need to pack, caro? I will meet you in the lobby, then. My clothes are in my chambers.” Papa huffs out a laugh when Copia digs his face further into his pajama shirt, seemingly reluctant to let him leave. He cards a hand through his hair once more, ruffling it and stepping back. Copia sighs at the loss of contact but smiles at Papa, comforting in knowing that they’ll be together soon. It’s crazy, he thinks, how quickly things changed from cordial acquantances to the desire to be together constantly. How warm his heart feels when he remembers that they are one. How his hand feels empty without Papa’s there.

“The lobby,” Copia says as a means of farewell as Papa stretches and moves towards the door of his chambers. They part easily enough, and after a moment of silence Copia stands from his poorly made bed and moves to the closet. He throws it open and stifles a yawn as he searches for his suitcase, scratching his stomach and smacking his lips in satisfaction. The morning was early still, but Copia considered it as a bit of a lie in. He usually awakes around 5 am, and the opportunity to get an extra hour of sleep made him feel a bit more spritely.

It doesn't take long for Copia to locate his small suitcase and fill it with his robes and two pairs of shoes. For good measure, he tucks a few small books into the side before gathering the main items from his bathroom. As he leans over the sink to wash his face he spots the handkerchief with Papa’s makeup on it from the night previous and a smile plays at the corner of his lips. How differently they treated each other now, only a few weeks later. He’d never dreamed he would see the man without his paint, let alone in his bed. With a smile on his face, he puts his toiletries into a small plastic bag and tucks it along the side of the interior of the suitcase, making sure that everything is secure and in the proper spot.

His thoughts turn over and over in his mind as he continues to pack, the idea of a weekend away from the Abbey with Papa giving him butterflies in his stomach. The small suitcase is fit to bulging by the time that Copia is done adding everything he “might need” for a short weekend. Always one to overpack, Copia takes one last look through the suitcase before shrugging and zipping it shut with some difficulty. He hefts the bulging bag in one arm and leaves, clicking his door shut behind him. As he predicted, Rain was still waiting for him in the hallway with a look of trepidation on his masked face.

Down the hall, Papa does the same. He, too, is rifling through his closet for the specific suits that he wears to formal functions. He pulls them out with a flourish and a hum, folding them delicately over his arm in a stack. Papa pulls out one tight fitting black suit, Armani, and his favourite white suit, Prada. His choices complete, he tosses the pile haphazardly to one of his Ghouls, waiting nearby. The Ghoul takes his cue easily enough and folds the suits for him quickly, packing them into the neat suitcase while Papa drops to his hands and knees in the closet, searching for shoes. 

“Cazzo! Have you seen my--'' A nudge at his leg stops his thoughts in their tracks. He turns to see the Ghoul wordlessly holding up his shoes and cocking his head to the side in a silent question. “Si… Thank you.” He takes the shoes and stands up, wincing as his knees crack loudly. Papa tosses them into the suitcase without much care before moving swiftly to his bathroom. Behind him, his Ghoul huffs an animalistic sigh before adjusting the contents of the suitcase. Papa throws his toothbrush and hair gel into the suitcase without using a plastic bag of anysort, and slams the top of it shut, zipping it quickly. Papa waves to his Ghoul, who bends and picks up his suitcase as well as his laptop bag, carrying both with ease as the two depart the messy room. 

They make it to the lobby after Copia, who’s standing patiently and waiting with his own suitcase at his feet and a small travel bag over his shoulder. One of his Ghouls is chattering at him eagerly while he nods along, but his eyes are trained on Papa. Papa joins Copia at the stairs and raises a hand to his Ghoul, nodding politely. Standing behind him slightly, his Ghoul sets down the suitcase carefully and lays a laptop bag on top of it, emblazoned with a sewn on “III”. 

“Is yours coming with us, then?” Copia pipes up, his eyes flitting between Papa and his silent companion. 

“Eh, no.” Papa turns to his Ghoul and rattles off instructions, which the Ghoul simply nods to over and over. “Take care of Primo, he’s coming down with something. Do not let him goad you into allowing him to drink the bourbon. It’s for father. Answer my phone-- eh… Instruct Special to answer my phone while we’re away, and notate the calls for me. Feed Jezebel three times a day, and don’t let her beg you for the wet food, she’s on a diet. No one is to know where I am, si?” The Ghoul gives a sharp nod and chitters at him in Ghoulish before turning sharply and jogging away.

“Yours are silent?” The Ghoul beside Copia speaks up, tail swishing with interest. He cocks his head to the side, staring down the hallway that the Ghoul disappeared down. Papa nods, preoccupied with tugging his gloves on properly. “Which element was that one? Kinda hot.” 

“Few of my Ghouls are elementally marked. That was Alpha.” Papa finishes with his gloves, buttoning the clasp on the last one and turning his eyes to Copia. “Is yours coming with us?” he repeats. 

“No, no. Just assisting me. Thank you, Rain. You’ll be alright here for the next few days without me, I assume? Like we discussed?” Copia turns to his Ghoul with a worried expression as he hoists his own suitcase into his hand once more. Rain flaps his hands towards Copia, nodding vigorously. 

“Go on, boss. We can hold down the fort. Me and uh… Alpha, down there. I’m sure we’ll work something out.” Rain’s tongue flickers out to wet his lower lip before his eyes snap to attention to the two men in front of him. “Bye lads!” He gives them a cheerful wave before leaving, jogging off in the same direction that Alpha disappeared to.

“He’s an odd one. I don’t think I’ll ever be used to how chipper and happy your Ghouls are, caro.” Papa picks up his own suitcase, throwing the laptop bag over his shoulder with a small grunt. “Omega arranged to have the car pick us up outside, so we don’t have to walk all the way to the car port. I figured you would prefer we don’t make a grand exit.” 

“Yes, greatly. Do you have any type of speech planned?” Copia attempts to make casual conversation to hide his nerves as the two of them walk towards the front of the lobby and the grand double doors. Two silent Ghouls open the door for them and wave them outside before shutting it with a loud boom that resonates in Copia’s bones. He was truly leaving the Abbey for the first time in… years, at least. His own work with the Ghost project wasn’t projected to begin for another few months.

“No. I eh… how do you say, ‘wings it’? I speak from the heart and the panel, they listen. Usually Primo would do these things but he’s not well this week. Secondo has no desire to suck up to people, he says. Me? I am a natural wooer.” Papa winks at Copia as they approach the car, a large white limo. Yet another Ghoul steps forward and opens the door for them, bowing them through before shutting it behind them and rapping on the roof of the car.

Papa settles back into the seat comfortably, swinging his legs up beside him and resting his arms behind his head as he sighs deeply. Copia sits slightly rigid for a few moments before finally relaxing into the seat as he watches the scenery outside glide by. The deep and dark forest surrounding the Abbey gradually gives way to a few sparse trees and then, finally, to farmland and the occasional building.

“Terzo?”

“Copia,” Papa replies, sliding his eyes over to Copia and blinking slowly, already on the verge of falling asleep. The hum of the car engine and the warmth of the interior had his eyelids drooping. Papa was one to rise late in the afternoon, preferring to sleep in until well past 11 am, most mornings. The sun on his face streaming in through the car window was enough to make him comfortable and sleepy.

“When was the last time you left the Abbey?” The nervousness in Copia’s voice makes Papa sit up a bit straighter, blinking away the sleepiness that fogged his mind. “I haven’t left in ages. What if things are different? What if--”

“Caro, caro. Calm down, si? If you have left the Abbey in the past five years, you have not missed anything, hm? Father has said that you’re next for the music project, so you’ll have to venture out at some point.” Papa turns his body to face Copia, his expression serious. “The outside world is nothing to be afraid of, tesoro. I would not let you leave if it were.” Copia shifts uncomfortably, his gaze returning to the back window where the forest of the Abbey was growing farther and farther away. 

“Before I came to the church, I was…” He trails off, chewing his lip as the memories return. “I was a priest for the Catholic church, Papa. I know you know this but, I don’t know that you know what I did for the church.”

“You do not have to tell me this thing, you know. It is not important to me what you did before you were mine, only that you are happy now.” Papa smiles comfortingly at him and sits back in his seat, believing the conversation to be over. Copia leans back as well, resting his elbow on the arm of the chair, his eyes still watching the scenery moving past the car. They were well into town now, and the smaller buildings were giving way to schools and libraries.

“It was my job to retain them,” he finally says. Terzo turns his head to face him again, eyebrows furrowed in silent questioning. “I made them stay. With us. With the church, I mean. It was my job to hear their confession and goad them to sign paperwork with us, dedicating their lives to the cloth.” 

“You mean you--”

“I lied to them. I signed over a hundred new priests to the church, all based on lies that their sins required repudiation. Retribution to be given to the church and to God by dedicating their lives to the order.” Copia fiddles with the rings over his gloves as he speaks, his eyes cast downward to the floor of the limo. “I sometimes wonder how many lives I doomed by hearing their confessions of such minor sins.” He falls silent, waiting for Papa to speak.

“You cannot blame yourself for these things, Copia. Your church told you to do this and so you obeyed, it was not on a directive from your heart but from your superior.” Papa moves to the seat across from Copia, swaying a bit with the movement of the limo, and places his hand over Copia’s. “I know if it were up to you, caro, those men would all be out of the church on their own whim, rather than locked in place by signatures.”

“Signed their death with their own blood,” Copia mutters, chewing on his lower lip. He barely notices when it cracks and bleeds slightly. Papa shakes his head, putting a finger under Copia’s chin and tilting his head up to look at him, forcing eye contact. 

“You did as you were told. You signed no one to their deaths, tesoro.” Copia’s eyes close as he shakes his head. “Would it help if I promised to help you track down those men? Offer them to break their contract, as you broke yours? The Ghouls, they help in this, si? Your Water Ghoul, he is capable.” 

“I--”

“Do you remember when you broke yours? When you came to me, as a boy, as a Bishop? So young and full of promise. Il mio bambino.” Papa’s hand moves from his chin to his cheek, stroking his cheekbone softly as he speaks. “Do you remember how we took you in and gave you a warm room, and taught you how to live apart from that organization?” Copia nods, his eyes still closed. 

“I remember.”

“Do you remember that first mass together? Black candles and red velvet, and the incense from the thurible? Father’s words of affirmation and the new vestments and chains given to you?” Copia nods again, firmer this time. “Do you remember speaking the words and promising aid when and where you can?” 

“I remember.” 

“Do you remember when I promised that we were partners, caro, that I would do anything and everything with you, if you would let me? Do you remember when I said that we would work together on things, because I am yours and you are mine?” Papa brings his other hand up to Copia’s cheek, cupping his face delicately in his palms. Copia finally opens his eyes and looks at Papa through the watery film of unshed tears. “Do you remember when I said that we are coupled?”

“I remember.” Copia sniffles and rubs the back of his hand across his eyes, the leather of his gloves creaking slightly as his hand bends. “Thank you, Terzo.” Papa nods at him, a sympathetic smile on his painted face. 

“Anything for you, caro. I move the Earth, si?” Copia huffs out a laugh and smiles back at him, leaning forward and pressing his forehead against Papa’s. Papa moves his hand to the back of his head, carding his fingers through Copia’s hair before pressing a firm kiss to the man’s forehead. 

“You know the phrase isn’t ‘we are coupled’, right?” There’s a moment of silence before Papa breaks it by laughing, leaning back heavily into his own seat. “What?” Copia asks, before dissolving into giggles of his own. “Why are you laughing?!” It’s not long before the two of them are roaring with laughter at one another, Papa holding onto his stomach and Copia wiping away tears.

“You looked so serious! I-- I thought I was in trouble!” Papa says between laughs. The laughter dies down naturally as the car comes to a rolling stop, the reason for their departure returning in full force. Copia goes for the door of the car, but Papa holds his hand up. “We set an example when we are out of the Abbey, si? When you are with an Emeritus, you do nothing yourself. We are eh… status.” Papa rubs his thumb and fingers together.

“You can’t be serious.” 

“Father’s orders. When we travel, we represent the church. The church is flashy. Expensive.” Papa’s lips curl upward into a half smile as he rolls his hand towards the door, which is already being opened by a Ghoul. “So we are as well.”

“Are you sure you don’t mean that YOU’RE flashy and expensive?” Copia asks dryly as he exits the vehicle, lugging his suitcase after him with a grunt. Papa has the decency to pretend to be scandalized as he exits as well, the Ghoul holding the door ducking inside to retrieve his bags. Copia looks around, realizing that they’re on an airport tarmac. A large plane waits nearby, and the staircase is already descended and waiting for them to board.

“I am everything but, caro. How dare you.” As if on cue, a sharply dressed woman steps forward to address Papa, a small brochure in her hand. She speaks in a very thick French accent, throwing Copia off guard slightly. 

“Bonjour Monsieur Trois.” Copia stifles his snort of laughter at the title into a cough, turning around and looking up towards the sky as he does so. “We are cleared for the lift off. The time to depart is in twenty minutes. Will Monsieurs want a drink?”

“Two espressos,” Papa responds curtly, already moving towards the waiting plane. “And you won’t need to fly with us, we’ll have the cabin solitary,” he tosses over his shoulder. The woman nods and speaks into a microphone on the lapel of her flight uniform, gesturing to Copia to follow Papa into the airplane. His Ghoul has since disappeared, as has the luggage that was waiting by their feet. 

“This isn’t flashy?” Copia asks as he boards the plane behind Papa. Papa makes a dismissive motion before dropping into one of the large reclining seats on board the private aircraft. “Terzo, you’re trying to tell me that this isn’t flashy? A private jet?”

“Not private, caro. The whole family uses it.” Papa throws his feet up onto the small table in front of him before clapping once. “Aha! Thank you for the coffee, cara. Talk to the Ghoul for your tip, si?” He takes a small sip of his espresso and sighs, licking his upper lip to gather the stray drops.

“Not tipping me yourself, Monsieur? Last time I got a thick tip, hm?” The flight attendant bats her lashes at Papa as one of her hands runs along her thigh, subtly pulling her skirt up. Papa coughs into his coffee in surprise, his eyes widening and flicking to Copia before looking back at the flight attendant.

“He is spoken for, Mademoiselle.” Copia bows slightly to her before ducking past her to sit in the seat opposite of his lover. Papa’s face flushes under his papal paint as the woman nods and leaves, her heels clicking on the stairs to the tarmac. “Sorry, Papa. I got a bit jealous, ehehe.” 

“Feel free to get jealous more often then, eh?” Papa snickers a little and finishes off his coffee, setting the small cup in a circular holder next to his chair. Copia downs his one gulp and does the same, settling back into his chair for take off. As soon as they click their seat belts in, the plane begins to travel down the tarmac to the launch location, jostling the two of them slightly as the engines begin to power up. 

“I used to fly often, for the church,” Copia remarks as he looks out the window. The plane comes to a halt and the engines begin the ascent to full power, growing louder and louder. Finally the plane lurches forward and follows the landing strip, lifting off and gliding easily in ascent. It flattens out rather quickly and the seatbelt sign turns off, the hum of the engines now merely background noise to the two men. “I’m going to stretch my legs. Do you want anything?” Copia asks as he undoes his seatbelt and stands, stretching and popping his lower back. Papa shakes his head, his eyes firmly fixed on the clouds passing them by. The Cardinal walks to the back of the plane and finds a bottle of water, stretching once more before he returns to his seat, sitting next to Papa instead of in his own chair. 

“Hello,” Papa says with a wry smile, leaning his shoulder against Copia’s fondly. He returns the nudge and cracks open his water bottle, taking a slow sip from it before capping it and tossing in the seat opposite them. He turns to face Papa, crossing one leg over the other. 

“Hello,” he returns. “Does this count as a vacation then?”

“Do you want it to?” Papa cocks one eyebrow at the smaller man in question, the smile still dancing around his lips. 

“I don’t think I do.” When Papa opens his mouth to answer, Copia cuts him off. “Because when we take a proper vacation, I want it to be at the beach. I want to sunbathe with you on the veranda of our hotel suite.” He leans closer to Papa, his tongue wetting his lower lip. “I want to lay in bed with you for hours, alone, knowing that no one will be there to interrupt us.” 

“Interrupt us doing what?” Papa leads, his voice dropping an octave as his eyes follow Copia’s tongue. His pupils are already lust blown and his breathing shallower. Copia leans in and closes the gap between them, pressing his lips to Papa’s firmly. With a groan deep in his throat, Papa returns the kiss, instantly bringing a hand up to the back of Copia’s head. 

Copia sighs and drops his own hand to Papa’s thigh as he deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding along Papa’s lower lip until he takes it between his teeth and tugs gently. Papa groans again, his fingers tangling in Copia’s hair as the man drags his teeth along his lip. He exhales shakily, pulling Copia away from him by his hair. The younger man's eyes are blown wide as he breathes heavily, tongue running along his lip where Papa’s had just been. The taste of his paint lingers, oily and chemical. 

“Is it your intention to drive me crazy before we even land?” he asks, tightening his grip slightly in Copia’s hair. This does nothing but elicit a moan from him, high and breathy. “Do you want to pleasure me on this plane, caro?” He watches as Copia struggles to nod against the grip in his hair. “Then come.” 

Papa brings his other hand to Copia’s shoulder, using his grip in his hair and on his shoulder to maneuver him roughly into his lap, pressing his chest against Copia’s back. He brings his wrist to his mouth, biting open the button on his glove and tugging it off with his teeth. He repeats the motion with the other hand, dropping his hold on Copia’s hair. Instantly the Cardinal leans back against Papa’s chest, moving his hips in a rolling motion. 

“Use me, Papa,” Copia hisses, gripping the arms of the chair tightly on either side for leverage as he moves. There’s some rustling behind him and the jingle of a belt before he feels Papa’s hard cock sliding against his ass. “Wait, wait!” He takes a deep breath, stopping his own motions to unbutton the length of his cassock, pulling it off and throwing it against the opposite chair. 

“I’m not done with you,” Papa growls, gripping Copia’s hips and pulling him back onto his lap. Copia undoes the front of his own pants and pulls himself free before resuming his grip on the arms of the chair, swiveling his hips against Papa’s once more. “You want to sit on my cock, hm?”

“So bad, Papa,” Copia whines, dropping his head backward onto Papa’s shoulder. Papa presses a searing kiss to his lips when he turns his head, sucking his lower lip into his mouth before biting it. His hips thrust upward against Copia, grinding his cock against the cleft of his ass. 

“You want to take me? All of me?” he asks, wrapping one arm around Copia’s middle to flatten his hand against his chest. “Hmm? Tell your Papa.” His other hand finds his cock, stroking it torturously slow as he continues grinding against him. When his thumb runs over the head of his cock, Copia moans loudly. 

“I want to. I want you inside me, Terzo,” Copia manages to get out between panting gasps, his hips jerking with the movement of his partner’s hand. Papa presses a hot kiss to the side of his neck, biting it and sucking until it blossoms purple. When he bites the spot again, Copia cums hard, his arms shaking on the arms of the chair. Papa ruts against Copia as the younger man comes down from his climax, finally tipping himself over the edge as well. 

“Did you mean that?” Papa says a moment later, breathing heavily as he drops his forehead against Copia’s back. Copia only nods, waiting for another moment before standing and tucking himself back into his pants. Papa does the same, eyeing the Cardinal as he pulls his cassock back on and rebuttons it. “And if I wanted to as well?” 

“What, take me?” Copia asks, cocking an eyebrow as he sits back down across from his partner. Papa only nods sheepishly, a blush rising up his unpainted neck. “I’ve never done it. I’ve only ever… eh… It would be new,” Copia manages to get out, his own face heating. As Papa opens his mouth to answer, the plane begins its descent and the seatbelt sign dings to life. 

“Later,” he says with a smile. 

The ride to the hotel, only minutes away from the airport that they landed at, was uneventful and mostly silent. Papa spent most of the ride on his phone to his brother, explaining where he was and why he wouldn’t be able to water the plants the next morning. Copia, for his part, satisfied himself with one of the books he had packed for the road, finishing part of a chapter before they pulled into the valet parking garage. 

The two of them entered the lobby of the hotel, each of them carrying their own bags after Papa grumbled something about no Ghouls being around to do it for him. Copia had snorted and picked up his as well, brushing off the fake whines to help with a fond roll of his eyes. As Papa checked them into their room, no doubt a penthouse in the upper floors, Copia took a look around the lobby. 

In one corner was a stand of brochures showing the different things that the city had to offer; various tours, wineries, tourist locations and landmarks were stuffed haphazardly into the rack, leaving the others strewn on a nearby table. Copia picks one up and leafs through it, noting that the same words were repeated in three different languages. He pockets the one for the nearby chapels and religious buildings, making note to mention it to Papa if they had a day off. Someone laughs nearby and he feels his blood run cold in his veins. 

“Caro? You are pale!” Papa says, finally returning with the key to stand by the Cardinal’s side. “What is it?” He follows his eye line and spots a man in a long black robe, with a white collar around his neck. His hair is gelled and coiffed perfectly, and small glasses rest on the bridge of his nose. 

“That’s my old Priest. That’s Father Michael,” Copia manages to say. “I thought we would be far enough away from Rome that I wouldn’t even have the chance to run into him this week.” His face is pale and unreadable. 

“You have never spoke of this Father Michael. Do we like him, caro? Tesoro? You are worrying me.” Papa reaches a hand out and bumps his knuckles against Copia’s hand, careful not to take it in his. 

“No. We don’t like him. He’s the one who brought me in when I was a child. He was five years my senior, and I trusted him.” Copia’s hands ball into fists at his side. “He got me to rope others in. He put me in that confessional because I ‘had such a way’ with convincing people.” 

“Then come, let’s go. We’ll take the elevator and he will never see us, si?” Papa says in a rushed, quiet tone. He makes to step away and move for the elevator just as the man turns slightly and spots Copia. Recognition floods his face as he smiles and moves forward, arms akimbo.

“Rafael Copia! Mio studente! E passato così tanto tempo, si?!” He moves forward and takes Copia’s limp hand into his own, shaking it broadly with a grin on his face. “So long, my student does not come to visit me! Why have you not come?!” He seems to be waiting for an answer that’s slow in coming, as his smile begins to fade. Finally, Copia speaks.

“Because I hate you.”


	12. The Chariot.

Of the three men, Terzo is the first to recover from Copia’s startling statement. He stammers a bit before sticking out his hand to the priest, giving him a sharp handshake and a smile. If the priest can tell that the smile is disingenuous, he gives no indication, clapping one hand over Papa’s in a firm handshake. 

“Father! A pleasure to meet a fellow man of the cloth, si?” Terzo flushes slightly, cocking his eyes to the side where Copia stands, pale faced and silent. “Please do not mind the Cardinale, he is tired. A long flight for us!” The priest keeps Papa’s hand in his and shakes it, though his eyes linger on Copia for a long moment before turning to Papa. 

“A fellow man of the cloth, you say? And Rafael is a Cardinale? With what church?” He smiles at Papa, albeit in confusion. 

“A better one than yours,” Copia says, finally regaining his capability of speech. He picks up his bag and walks away swiftly, practically stomping towards the elevator with a white-knuckled grip on his bags. 

“Scusi, Father. As I said, a long flight,” Papa offers with a tiny shrug and a smile. The Priest just nods and turns his eyes back to Papa, as if seeing him for the first time.

“This paint… Normal in your church?” Papa nods, his eyes following Copia as he waits by the elevator. “And the name?” Papa’s two-toned eyes flick back to the priest and narrow slightly. 

“The Emeritus Church of The Morning Star. Papa Emeritus the Third, at your service, Father.” He gives him a slight, almost sarcastic bow before picking up his own bags. “If you’ll excuse me, I take great care of my parishioners, si? My Cardinale waits.” He flaps a hand at the priest in dismissal and walks over to the elevator. He only lets the facade drop when he stops next to Copia, nudging him with his elbow. “Caro… Tesoro… You are not well. Talk to me.” 

“That man was the one who enabled me to rope so many other young boys into the fold of the church. He made me sit in the confessional as a Priest and hear their sins, such minor sins, and indoctrinate them. Lie to them.” Copia’s fist clenches around the handle of his bag. “I don’t like to think about how many people I trapped. Seeing him is… painful.”

“An unwelcome reminder,” Papa says quietly, nodding to himself. He looks behind them surreptitiously, but the priest is no longer there. The elevator dings and both of them step on gratefully, pressing the button for their floor and then the Close Doors button, just in case. There’s a long moment of silence between them before Copia speaks again. 

“I’ve never felt so comfortable and safe as I do with you.” He moves his arm and bumps his knuckles slightly against Papa’s hand. 

“With me or my church?” Papa counters, his eyes firmly fixed on the doors.

“Both. With you, I feel safe and secure. With the church, I feel loved and useful.” Copia turns his head to look at Papa, giving him a soft smile. Papa returns it, repeating Copia’s gesture of bumping his knuckles against his hand, in lieu of holding it. 

“Then let us not think of the priest, hm? A good weekend for us, and a good weekend for our church.” The elevator doors slide open to an empty hall and the two step off, Copia moving slightly behind Papa to let the older man take the lead. He moves swiftly down the hall until he reaches the door of their hotel room, sliding the electronic key through the slot and pushing the door open. 

“Papa, this is…” Copia trails off as he surveys the room, his jaw slightly ajar. “This is too much.” 

Before him is a large sitting room, with two chairs and a couch-- all overly stuffed and comfortable looking. In the center of the seating area is a coffee table, laden with pastries and fruits on a platter, with an accompanying decanter of orange juice and a pot of coffee. Copia moves forward into the room, peering through the door on the left and his jaw drops once more when he sees the size of the bed. It’s a good three feet off of the ground, and a step stool has been placed at the bottom of it. It’s easily large enough to fit four to five people comfortably. 

“It is perfect, si? My family, we stay here every time we come to Verona. Come, caro, look at the shower.” Papa motions to Copia to follow him through the door on the other side of the bathroom. It opens up into a fully marbled and glass bathroom. On one side is a massive bathtub sunk into the floor, while a large glass walled shower dominates the other side. “Options!”

“Yeah, I… Yeah.” Copia runs his hand along the length of the bathtub before looking at Papa. “I wouldn’t mind a shower. I haven’t had one since before you came over last night. Was it really only last night?” Copia trails off as he looks at the shower, shaking his head quickly. 

“Less than 24 hours, yes.” Papa moves forward, coming to stand behind Copia as he wraps his arms around his stomach. “We have the rest of the day to relax, caro.” He lays his chin on Copia’s shoulder and presses a kiss to his neck. Copia’s head rolls back slightly as his eyes drift closed, swaying comfortably in his lover’s arms.

“All day, you say?” Papa hums in the affirmative, pressing another kiss to his neck before dragging his teeth lightly over his ear lobe. Copia shivers in his arms, his jaw dropping open just slightly as his breathing deepens. “All I want right now is a hot shower… and maybe one of those cinnamon rolls.” Papa huffs a laugh into the crook of Copia’s shoulder and pulls away, turning to move back to the sitting area.

“You start your water, I’ll bring you a roll, hm? I live to serve.” Copia lets out a bark of a laugh as he turns to look at Papa. Another moment and both of them are laughing as Papa exits the room, slapping one hand along the frame of the door. 

“Serve, my ass!” Copia shouts after him, shaking his head incredulously. The man had Ghouls waiting on him hand and foot.

“One of these days!” Papa calls back, barely able to hide the laughter in his voice. 

Copia shakes his head once more and directs his attention to the large shower, pulling open the glass door and looking at the various handles. He turns on the water and cranks it to the side of the dial that says “HOT” before sliding the zipper down on the palm of his gloves and tugging them off with his teeth. Fingers freed, he moves through the buttons of his cassock quickly, blushing when he sees a damp spot on the leg of his trousers. 

The steam from the shower fills the room quickly, and Copia wastes no time in removing his shirt and pants, tossing them into the corner of the bathroom. He steps under the water and groans as the tension eases from his shoulders and back. The hot water beats against his back in a comforting rhythm as he leans his head against the glass wall of the shower. A moment later and Papa reappears with a cinnamon roll, knocking lightly on the glass with one knuckle. 

“Mm?” Copia responds, opening his eyes and looking at him. He’s already removed his suit coat and gloves, stripped down to only his pants and dress shirt, which hangs open to reveal his taut stomach and chest. “Sweets?”

“Yes, yes, sweets,” Papa says with a smile. He opens the door of the shower just slightly and passes the cinnamon roll to Copia who takes it gratefully, taking a large bite with a groan. “Good?”

“You have no idea,” Copia says, his eyes drifting closed again as he chews under the hot water. “Do you want to? Have an idea, that is?” There’s a moment of silence and Copia cracks open one eye to see that Papa has disappeared. He shrugs to himself and shoves the last of the roll into his mouth, chewing contentedly as he hums around it. 

“Move over.” Copia’s eyes fly open once more as the door to the shower opens, a cold breeze following it. He scoots over and allows Papa to join him as he reaches to the handles and turns the heat up slightly to account for the sudden cold that Papa brought with him. “Oh, shit,” Papa groans as the water hits him, tilting his head back and allowing it to flow through his hair. 

“I told you,” Copia says with a hint of a smile in his voice. Papa hums noncommittally, bringing his own cinnamon roll to his mouth and shoving it in whole. “Don’t choke please. I’m not in the mood to carry your lifeless corpse back to the Abbey.” Papa coughs a laugh around the sweet roll, bringing a hand to his mouth as he does so. He continues laughing silently, his shoulders bouncing with it until he swallows with great effort.

“I would have been fine if you hadn’t said that!” he finally gets out. He nudges Copia with his shoulder, who nudges him back. In a move that surprises even himself, Copia takes Papa’s hand and licks his finger into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the digit as he would a cock. Some of the cinnamon sugary icing is still on his fingers, and Copia delights in sucking each digit clean lewdly. Papa’s mouth parts as his breathing deepens, watching Copia’s tongue move along his finger before he pulls off with a pop.

“If I keep going, I’m afraid I’ll be on my knees.” 

“And that is a problem, why, caro?”

“Hard tile.”

“Ah.”

“Mm.” Copia tilts his head back under the water, spluttering when it goes up his nose. They lapse into a comfortable silence under the water until Papa speaks again. 

“I should wash my face… You should too. We aren’t going anywhere for the rest of the day, and it’s already half past four.”

“Mm, probably,” Copia says, but makes no effort to move, preoccupied with moving his head under the water, allowing it to beat on his scalp. Finally, Papa sighs and reaches past him to grab a washcloth. He runs it under the hot water for a moment and brings a hand to Copia’s face, turning him slightly.

“C’mere,” he mumbles, bringing the wash cloth up to Copia’s face. He wipes the cloth gently across his lover’s eyes, smearing the black circles of makeup until they wash off completely. It’s a slow process, gentle and without any pressure. Copia turns his face up towards Papa and hums as the washrag washes away his makeup. 

“The lipstick?” Copia prompts, opening his eyes once Papa moves the washrag away. The black paint swirls down the drain in a dizzying spiral of grey. 

“I was getting to that,” Papa replies with a smile. He sets the used washcloth on a shelf in the shower and leans in, running a hand through Copia’s wet hair as he brings his lips to his. The kiss is slow and languid, full of the words that neither of them wish to say just yet, but rather show with their actions. Papa bites on Copia’s lip gently and the taste of the makeup floods his mouth, acrid and chemical. When they part, Papa’s hand rests on his cheek for a moment, thumb brushing across Copia’s cheekbone. 

“Your turn,” Copia says quietly, unwilling to break the spell that the warm water and even warmer kiss have provided. He picks up another washcloth from the stack and runs it under the hot water, as his partner did. When it’s sufficiently wet, he cups Papa’s face gently and runs the rag along his face, wiping at the stubborn makeup. After a few more passes with the warm water it finally begins to break apart, washing down the drain in a deluge of white and black. 

“Well set, si?” Papa’s lips curl into a teasing smile as Copia huffs and continues washing his face. Bit by bit the makeup washes off and bit by bit his face is revealed, aided by the gentle scrubbing of the Cardinal. 

“It’s like you set it with concrete or something,” he finally says, exasperated. Papa laughs, a quick bark, before taking the wash rag and scrubbing his own face quickly and efficiently. He tosses the rag aside and turns to face his lover, face finally clean and clear of the paint. “I don’t think I’ll ever be used to seeing you without the paint.” 

“I’ll give you plenty of chances, caro.” Papa ducks under the shower head once more, allowing the hot water to run down his face in rivulets. His skin is pinkened slightly from both the scrubbing of the wash cloth and the heated water. 

“Plenty, you say?” Copia winds his arms around Papa’s hips, pulling him closer gently until they both are standing under the water comfortably. The hot water runs down their sides as drops of it fall from Papa’s raven locks. He shakes his head gently, moving the errant strands of hair out of his face.

“For as long as you’ll let me, Cardinale.” Papa’s hand cups Copia’s cheek once more, this time serving to draw him closer until their lips connect. Copia lets out a soft sigh as Papa’s tongue sweeps across his lower lip, his grip tightening around him. Papa’s hand moves from Copia’s cheek to the back of his head, holding him in place as the kiss turns deeper, teeth lightly scraping the smaller man’s lip.

“Terzo,” Copia whispers against his lips, daring to pull back slightly and break the kiss. Papa merely hums in acknowledgement, satisfied to move his lips instead to the junction of Copia’s neck and shoulder. “Terzo, I feel like we’re on the brink of something.”

“An orgasm?” Papa supplies helpfully from his place at Copia’s neck. Copia’s short laugh turns into a sigh as Papa bites him softly, worrying the soft skin there between his teeth before lathing over it with his tongue. 

“No, something more. Something important.” Papa bites him especially hard and Copia gasps, one hand flying to the back of Papa’s head to keep him there. “Fuck, right there.” He can feel Papa smile against his skin. 

“Language, Copia. You say right here, hm? What about here?” Papa moves his other hand down, to wrap around Copia’s half-hard length. Copia groans, his grip in Papa’s hair getting tighter as his hips buck forward. 

“Theretherethere,” Copia chants as Papa pushes him back against the wall of the shower, using his shoulder to keep him in place as he winds his fingers into Copia’s hair, twisting and pulling his head back. 

“What did I say, caro? Your noises belong to me. Sing for me.” Papa brings his lips back to Copia’s collarbone, nipping and sucking as his fist moves along his cock. The noises Copia makes are music to his ears, loud and unrestrained. With nothing to hold him back, Copia moans and gasps, pushing his hips forward into Papa’s hand with shuddering groans of pleasure. When he cums, his legs tremble with the effort of holding himself up and he leans heavily into Papa, who presses kisses to his forehead as he urges him down. 

“Terzo…” Copia starts, his head lolling back against the wall of the shower as he fixes his lover with pleasure glazed eyes. “I don’t want to know where you learned how to do that… But I’m glad you did.” Papa snorts out a surprised laugh as he reaches to turn off the shower. With an exaggerated groan of effort, Copia pushes away from the wall and exits the shower with him, taking a towel off of the tall stack of them at the door. 

“You say you do not wish to know, but I think it is obvious.” Papa wraps a towel around his waist and tucks it neatly with ease. A pair of slippers, left in the bathroom by the wait staff, fit him perfectly. He looks back at Copia who’s tying off his towel in a similar fashion, and makes a jerking motion with his hand. “I play with the men.”

“And the women,” Copia adds with a wry arch to his eyebrow. He isn’t offended or worried, just stating a fact.

“And the women,” Papa repeats. A beat of silence passes as they leave the bathroom and make their way back to their abandoned bags in the sitting area. As Papa digs through his he says, “Have you thought of inviting someone with us?”

“What, into our bed?” Copia tosses over his shoulder as he kneels and opens his carefully packed suitcase. Everything is as he left it, and he lifts out one of his favourite books along with his protected reading glasses. 

“Si, for fun.” Papa sits down heavily in one of the chairs with a comfortable groan, putting his legs up on the table in front of him and crossing them at the ankle. Copia does so as well, crossing one leg over the other and balancing his book on his knee as he slides his reading glasses on. 

“Mm. Maybe. I wouldn’t take issue with it.” He thumbs the book open to his bookmarked page, back reading a few paragraphs to catch himself up again. The silence doesn’t last long before Papa speaks up again.

“A girl?” Papa suggests with a slight air of hesitance. Copia looks at him over the rim of his reading glasses and lays his book down on his knee. Papa was the perfect picture of innocence, sitting comfortably in a bathrobe with an apple in one hand. 

“Is that what you want?” Copia asked carefully.

“Maybe yes, maybe no. Maybe I just want to play,” Papa mumbles, tossing the apple from hand to hand before taking a bite and looking away. Copia watches him for a moment, realization dawning across his face. 

“You’re embarrassed to talk about this. All of your bravado and talk about sex and the pleasures of the human body-- and you’re embarrassed to ask me if we can bring someone else into the bedroom for fun!” Copia’s mouth hangs open slightly before he laughs once, loudly. 

“No, I--”

“It’s okay! It’s cute, really.” Copia takes a moment to take off his glasses before he turns to Papa. “I don’t think it would be a bad idea, per say. Did you have someone in mind, and that’s why you’re asking?”

“No, I just… The magazines, they say that men get bored in relationships, and--”

“Terzo, I’m not going to get bored.” Copia leans forward, setting his book and glasses on the table between the chairs and gets to his feet, moving to stand in front of Papa. He puts a finger under his chin and tilts his head towards him, forcing eye contact. Papa seems slightly sheepish, embarrassed at his own statement. “You mean the world to me. I could never see myself getting bored with you.”

“Truly?” Papa squeezes his eyes shut briefly as a flush of embarrassment rises up his cheeks once more. Copia’s hand moves to his cheek, his fingers brushing the hair back from his face.

“Truly. We’re coupled, remember?” Papa laughs, his face breaking in a wide smile as he pushes Copia’s hand away from him. His eyes crinkle at the corners as he looks up at Copia leaning slightly over him, now laughing himself.

“You use my words against me, si? I use yours against you, then,” Papa says as he stands up, pressing his way into Copia’s space as he draws him into a tight hug. “With you, I feel safe and secure, il mio tesoro.” 

Copia’s eyes close as he sighs, wrapping his arms around Papa and pulling him in tighter. He tucks his head in the crook of Papa’s shoulder and neck, squeezing him tightly for a moment. He feels Papa press two quick kisses to the top of his head before letting him go and sitting back down in his chair. 

“You can use my words against me more often, you know,” Copia says as he moves back to his own chair, retrieving his glasses and book on the way. “You scared me with that talk. I thought something was wrong.”

“No, caro. Scusi.” Papa bites into his apple again, his gaze turning to the window as he looks out at the city beyond. “After the conference tomorrow, you wish to see the city? I am an excellent guide.” Outside, the sun is beginning to set and colours of pink and orange streak across the sky like the spilled water of an artist’s canvas. In the distance, thick black storm clouds gather, darkening the sky. 

“That sounds excellent. I’d love to see it. I studied here for a year or so, but I never had the time to fully look around the city. Only a few food places and the library.” Copia opens his books once more, leaning to the side to turn on the small lamp beside him. Shadows cast their way across the sitting room, deepening in the corners where the timid light can’t reach. 

Papa groans and stretches broadly, a large yawn splitting his face that he doesn’t bother to stifle. He stands and stretches again, popping his lower back with his fists before he turns to the Cardinal. Copia regards him with a steady gaze, his finger holding his place on the page. He blinks owlishly behind his reading glasses, the lenses making his eyes appear as large as saucers. 

“I think, Cardinale, that I am off to lay in the bed. Perhaps I watch a bit of TV, hm?” Papa nods to himself and claps once, heading in the direction of the bedroom. Copia squawks as Papa’s robe lands on his head, flailing slightly in an attempt to get the thick material off of his head. A moment later, the towel lands on him as well. “Yes, TV sounds nice. Such a big bed, I can spread out and be comfortable.” 

Copia looks at the different materials in his hands before it dawns on him that Papa is laying in the bed, presumably completely nude. In a flurry of motion he slams his book shut on his own thumb, cursing at himself for his haste. He throws the offending book onto the table and practically tosses his glasses on top of it, standing swiftly and jogging to the bedroom. 

“Eh, Terzo, perhaps I will join you. The news, I think, yes?” Copia manages to keep his voice calm and collected-- a fact that makes him rather proud of himself, thank you very much. Any sense of calm and collected dissipates the moment he enters the bedroom, however. 

Papa is reclined on the bed with the television remote on his sternum, laying back against the large plump pillows. One leg is drawn up as he waves it from side to side idly, with one arm tucked under his head. He’s completely nude and his attention is already on the large television screen. When he turns to look at Copia, he smiles around the stick hanging out of his mouth. 

“Caro! The maids, they left me lollies!” Papa rolls the lollipop around his mouth, sticking it out for Copia to see. The Cardinal rolls his eyes and drops his own towel onto the floor, climbing up onto the large bed and collapsing next to Papa. He gives a deep groan as he settles into the cushion, his eyes already starting to slip closed. 

“Haven’t you had enough sugar for one day?” he asks, a smile playing around his lips. There’s a small clink as Papa rolls to the side and puts his lollipop on the wrapper, resting on the bedside table. 

“Mm, no.” The bed dips as Papa rolls back towards him, and then over him. Copia opens his eyes slowly, relishing the sight of his lover on top of him. Locks of Papa’s hair, now dried and fluffy, hang in front of his face as he hovers over Copia. He lowers himself until their hips are aligned before he drops from his hands to his elbows. “I want more.”

“More what? Sugar?” Copia plays along well enough, but his eyes have already darkened and focused on Papa’s plush lips. Papa shakes his head, a smile canting the side of his mouth upwards. 

“No, caro. Something better.” Papa brings his lips to Copia’s for the second time that evening, slow and languid. With a satisfied hum, Copia brings one hand up, entwining it with Papa’s as his hips move of their own accord. His cock is plumped to half hardness already and Papa growls as he feels it pressing against his. He breaks the kiss, moving instead to Copia’s neck. “I want to taste something sweeter.” 

“Taste me, you mean?” Papa doesn’t respond, only sighs as he drags himself farther down Copia’s body, kissing a hot trail down his chest… stomach… pelvis… Copia gasps when Papa’s mouth closes over the head of his cock, tongue flicking at the sensitive skin on the underside. 

Papa keeps his eyes open, one hand still entwined on the bed with Copia’s as he takes him down to the hilt, burying his nose in the tuft of pubic hair there. He moves his head slightly, fighting the urge to gag as he comes up for air. A litany of curses flows freely from the Cardinal as Papa pulls off of his cock completely, opting instead to lathe his tongue around his balls.

“God, Papa, I’m already--” Copia cuts himself off as Papa’s free hand comes to the base of his shaft, stroking him quickly as his tongue seeks lower and lower. When Papa’s tongue runs over the stretch of skin behind his balls, Copia tenses at first and then relaxes with a further groan of pleasure. 

Papa keeps his hand moving across the Cardinal’s cock as he returns to lavish attention on his balls, occasionally dipping lower. Each time he does, Copia tenses and relaxes, seemingly at odds with himself in terms of pleasure. Finally, he squeezes Papa’s hand in lieu of a warning as his breathing quickens. His cock pulses in Papa’s hand, and he just manages to get his mouth around him as he cums, flooding his mouth with the taste of salt.

“Oh, god.. Fuck,” Copia stammers, throwing his forearm over his eyes as he breathes heavily. He feels the bed dip on either side of him once more and opens his eyes to see Papa straddling his chest. There’s a silent question in his eyes and the tip of his head, and Copia answers it swiftly by urging him forward, mouth open. 

“Okay like this?” Papa asks even as Copia takes his cock in his mouth. He hums around him, tongue already working at the sensitive head as he swirls in circles. His free hand comes to rest at the base of his shaft, squeezing in time with his mouth. It isn’t long before Papa finishes as well, cumming hard with a deep groan. 

When it’s over, Papa flops over to the side with his hands around his middle, staring up at the canvas above the large bed. Copia takes a moment to surreptitiously wipe his mouth on some tissues on the bed side table before rolling over and tucking himself against Papa’s body. The two men lay in silence for a moment before the gentle sounds of Copia sleeping reach Papa’s ears. He smiles to himself and sits up slowly, taking the ends of the blanket at the bottom of the bed and pulling it over the two of them. 

Copia smiles in his sleep when Papa leans down and presses a kiss to his forehead.


End file.
